The Third Nature
by Speaker for the Dead aka 17
Summary: Book One of The Triad. Voyager comes across a strange world of magic and mystique, where they are being hailed as the saviors of a bitter war against the ruling monarchy, which has raged for centuries. [COMPLETE NOW-- A YEAR OR SO AFTER. I'm forgetful.]
1. prologue

**Disclaimer: **

Star Trek, Star Trek _Voyager and all associated characters are trademarked property of Paramount Pictures. No infringement of copyright was intended. The author is not using the above for any profit or commercial gain whatsoever. (i.e. I am NOT Ferengi. Profit is irrelevant!)_

Everyone and everything else, however is the intellectual (intellect? What intellect?) property of Lt Taya 17 Janeway, so please do tell me if you're going to use it.

Any resemblance to real-life events or persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental.

**Ice****   |    Water    |    Storm    |   Wind    |   Air   |   Smoke   |    Fire****  
  
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**Close, destructive Distant, constructive  
  
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**Ranks:**

**Scarlet**

**Ocher**

**Saffron**

**Emerald**

**Cerulean**

**Turquoise**

**Purple**

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**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**prologue******

The Healer was in her inner sanctuary, tending to the small lamp that she kept by her bedside. It was an ornate, intricately carved bronzed object which flickered with a small bright yellow flame, scenting the room with the dusky smell of bloomflowers and myrrh. Once, when she had still been young, this lamp had been a great mystery to her, but as she had grown under the tutelage of her elders she had learnt to master it; to control the power that small flame held. Now whenever she was troubled, she turned to it, relying on its predictability to calm and order her own thoughts.

Their daer was situated at the northern edge of the province of Naiad, a clandestine affair of dozens of huts secreted at the edge of the Kundzan woodlands. Not more than fifty wings away was the river Hy, the lifeblood of the daer, and the forest ended a hundred and fifty wings to the north where the Great Plains begun. Her hut was situated on one of the upper levels, perched precariously on the lower branches of a scarletwood tree, twenty meters in the air. When she stood on the balcony she could gaze down on the circular clearing ringed by numerous huts, and the communal buildings- the dining hall, the medicine shack, and of course, the war rooms. Looking up, however, gave one a much better view of the world. The tall straight trunks of the ancient scarletwoods rose hundreds of meters into the air, as if tracing a circle in the dark sapphire sky. And in the sky were the stars, the bright twinkling objects that had captured the imaginations of mortals and Mage alike since time immemorial. Even in this day and age where the Preeminence spanned across worlds and stars were known for the burning balls of hot gases that they were, they still commanded a great deal of awe and respect.

The Healer put down her lamp and gazed at the silvery light pooling on the wooden floor, warmed by the thermopacks under it. She knew the stars, alright. There was a time along ago when she had traveled amongst them, trying to seek out the meaning of life. That was before her Catharsis and her Healing, when she'd finally found the true calling of her life amongst these people. With a sigh she blew out the lamp and rose, crossing the space between her bed and the balcony. Her room was sparsely furnished in a bare, ascetic style. A simple single bed, lamp, a small study desk by the balcony. A couple of bookshelves were pushed against the wall opposite her bed, and beside it was her wardrobe and tool store. There was an adjoining room where she kept her magic tools, and a small refresher room, all done in the same minimalist décor. Her junip-hewn robe chafed against her skin as she leaned against the railing and contemplated the stars, remembering those years. And thinking of the Auguries. 

Of late she had been studying the ancient texts with Myriam, wading through scrolls and scrolls of black inscriptions and the accompanying interpretatory notes. Most of it, according to Myriam, was pure nonsense, more hyperbole and dramatic storytelling than anything else, but looking beyond what she called the 'flotsam sequences' revealed a clairvoyance which was startlingly accurate and precise. The Seers of the past had predicted the Thousand Year War with stunning detail, and Mage scholars spent much of their time in the library trying to read the texts deeper, to forecast how the battle would end. Many conflicting theories had been proposed, and each proponent of a theory had a compelling reason why her version of the future was more correct than others.

But the Healer and Myriam, together with the other Mage in the daer, had, using simple techniques from antediluvian sources, pieced together a different version from what any other had proposed. The war would end soon, according to the texts, and the coming of an Emissary would end it. She would deal the final blow in toppling the Preeminence and would be key to building a new order from the ashes of the old one. She would be a powerful sorceress, a strong-willed leader with a loyal following of Mage who would end the sovereignty of this bloodline of Empresses, once and for all. It had taken them a full twenty years to come this far, and they still had so much more to cover.

Most of the non-Mage women in the daer were skeptical about the coming of this Emissary, much less the men. But Myriam had faith in her texts, and so did she. She believed that people who were as described in the text, altruistic and dedicated people untouched by the Preeminence, did exist. No, not just believed. She knew. Just reading the texts reminded her of someone she was once acquainted with, someone whom she was still greatly indebted to. Her image kept surfacing in the Healer's mind's eye, time and again over the past few days, reminding her of what the universe could still hold. And although that had been a different time, and a different life, she knew someone that there would be others in this universe that could fulfill the requirement.

She gazed out at the stars, and in that split second she saw something briefly flash against the dark nightdrop of twilight, had her heart skipped a beat at the memory it induced in her. It was like a flash of light appearing over them, like someone mysteriously summoned into their realm. And that light- it seemed so beautifully familiar, somehow. She recognized it.

The Healer shook her head, deciding that too much of staying at a table and comparing tablet engrams was doing something none too beneficiary to her brain. She turned away from the balcony and went in to prepare her bed, prepare for another day in that grueling world where the life of every person, every small victory, had to be fought for, hand and nail. And she went to bed praying, hope against hope, that their Emissary would come soon.


	2. one ship's arrival

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**one**** ship's arrival**

**Time: Just after _Good Shepherd_**

It was a sudden blow. One moment the ship was drifting peacefully in space, and the next thing they knew was that they had been engulfed by a huge wave of neutrinos and chronitons. The ship trembled violently in the grip of the storm, and lurched violently sideways as it was hurled by a gigantic gravimetric surge. Nobody saw it coming. Terrans had an expression for similar phenomena: a lightning bolt out of a blue sky.

And what a lightning bolt it was. When the storm had passed as abruptly as it had begun, _Voyager  hung blackened and scorched in space, primary systems off-line, venting plasma and thrusters barely working. Instantly, Captain Kathryn Janeway was on her feet on the bridge, demanding damage reports, their status and whereabouts._

At Ops, Ensign Harry Kim was at a loss as to explain what just happened. "Primary analysis indicate that the wave resulted due to some form of gravimetric collapse of the fabric of space-time in our vicinity. But I'm afraid I have no clue as to where our current location is. Sensors are offline, and so is most of the ship."

Janeway mused on this information for a while, then turned to First Officer Chakotay. "I'm afraid we don't have many options. We need to find out more about whatever just hit us, but we won't be able to do so until some repairs are done. Any suggestions, Commander?"

Chakotay glanced about him. The bridge itself was in a mess: red alert had come on automatically, but even in the dim lighting he could discern collapsed panels where the surge had hit a little to hard, he could see the scorch marks on the floor, and smell the acrid smoke from electrical fires which had fortunately been put out in time. "As it is, I don't see what choice we have. The ship is badly damaged. We don't know where we are. The most logical course of action would be to hunker down and hope nothing else happens while repairs take place."

But Janeway was thinking. "Large masses have been known to dampen the effects of gravitational phenomena," she said. "Ensign, are navigational controls still online?"

"Barely."

"Are there any planets that we could take a refuge on in the neighbourhood?"

"There is one, about a half a light year away from here. M-class, no sign of civilization. We might make it on quarter impulse."

"Then let's do it. Mr. Paris, set a course for the coordinates Mr. Kim sends you."

Ensign Tom Paris turned around, concern in his eyes. "You want me to land her in _this condition? We might not survive it in one piece!"_

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Janeway told him. "Do it, Ensign." Paris complied with a sigh he did not try to suppress very much.

"In the meantime, I'll get Damage Control underway," said Chakotay.

"Please do," said Janeway, flashing a tired smile at her exec officer. "We need to get this ship back together as fast as possible."

Chakotay nodded silently, and exited the bridge. Janeway suppressed a sigh. Why did the bridge always feel so much emptier without his massive presence around? He was her rock, her stone, her anchor, the one who held her back, reined in her fierce temper, who advised her when she went astray. She couldn't imagine a day without him. She wouldn't be able to cope with the ship. She settled back into her chair, and began the long process of waiting.

Hours later, _Voyager finally broke warp. Janeway drew in a sharp breath as the system they had arrived at came into focus on the viewscreen. Nine planets around a single yellow sun. The third was a gleaming blue orb, an orb which grew steadily larger on the viewscreen as Paris brought them closer. It was so much like Earth. Too much. Janeway closed her eyes and tried to imagine that it was the blue sphere of home that they were heading to, where all their friends and family awaited, where their lives' greatest journey would end. But it was too hard. The blatant fact mocked them; that they were trapped, here, still in the Delta Quadrant, farther out than any human had ever gone before. The planet before her was in the Delta Quadrant, was devoid of sentient life, and was certainly not Earth. Deluding herself wasn't going to help much._

"It looks so much like Earth," said Kim softly from behind her, mirroring her thoughts. Janeway angled a small smile towards him, but otherwise said nothing. 

"We're ready to begin descent, Captain," announced Paris, as the expanse of swirling white on blue filled up their viewscreen. 

"Ready whenever you are. Blue alert." The lighting on the bridge shifted subtly as _Voyager prepared for her plunge into the atmosphere. Behind Janeway, Seven of Nine kept close tabs on the ship's status, working in tandem with Kim._

_Voyager drifted down to earth gently like a gossamer web, guided by the expert hand of their helmsman. Janeway barely felt the tremor of the deck beneath her boots as the ship landed. She cancelled blue alert, and the relief on the bridge was palpable. Once again, __Voyager had survived another ordeal._

Janeway got out of her seat and congratulated her bridge crew, as custom dictated, for showing such resolve in the face of difficulties. In less than a week, she assured them, repairs would be complete, the ship would be back to normal, and they would be back on course.

Simple words to lift the hearts of those who felt depressed or let down by this turn of events.

Leaving the bridge to the expert care of Kim, Janeway made her way to Engineering to see if Torres needed any help from her. Getting down and dirty with the rest of the crew wasn't something which was beneath any good Starfleet captain, and it was a great impetus for the crew to work; to know that the captain was with them, slaving also, sharing and suffering their predicament. Besides, they needed all the help that they could get.

As she was walking from the turbolift to Engineering she was suddenly accosted by Neelix, morale officer of the ship. The short stubby Talaxian was practically bouncing on his feet. "Captain! Just the person I wanted to see."

Janeway tried not to roll her eyes as Neelix enthusiastically tried to keep up with her. "It's a beautiful planet out there, captain," he said earnestly, "bright sunshine, fresh spring grass, beautiful scenery… just what is needed for us to rejuvenate our jaded spirits!"

"Really," replied Janeway, smiling politely. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well…" Neelix paused for a moment, his enthused manner deflating slightly. "We are running out of food supplies, and I was thinking that this would be a perfect place to find all sorts of new tastes we've never tried before."

Ah. So he did have an ulterior motive, playing on her weariness and exploratory instincts to restock his pantry. But it did sound like an appealing idea; a breath of fresh air was something that most of her officers needed right now. The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. "You're proposing that we organize away teams to scout the surface for edibles?"

Neelix nodded, then leaned in to whisper to her. "I heard that there is a possibility of dilithium mines on this planet."

Janeway laughed. "No need to coax me any further, Mr. Neelix. I think it's a great idea."


	3. strangers in the forest

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**strangers in the forest**

Five hours later she was on the planet's surface with Chakotay, tricorder in hand. Neelix was right; the planet was beautiful. _Voyager had settled down in the midst of a vast plain, near the edge of a thickly wooded area which signified the beginnings of a forest. She and Chakotay skirted that forest, seeking fruits and berries which might be worthwhile harvesting. The smells of the forest surrounded her, rich and deep, full of life and promise. Tall slender trees rose hundreds of meters into the air, filtering the golden sunlight down in calico patches on the forest floor, shifting and dancing. The undergrowth wasn't thick, composed mainly of shrubs and ferns, and a few brightly colored flowers. _

But there was more than that to this place, thought Janeway, as she strode through the forest with Chakotay by her side. Every time she gazed at the peaceful tableau around her, she somehow could sense a darkness. It wasn't darkness the color of black night; rather, she sensed a dim, gray light, soft and peaceful, shining down on striped marble floors. She didn't know what was triggering these sensations; her scientific side was considering the possibility that some unknown pheromone was releasing some suppressed memory within. 

Finally she stopped in her stride and faced Chakotay. "Commander, I know this is going to sound slightly unusual, but do you notice anything odd about this place?"

"Odd? How so?"

"Like there is a darkness within it. Not a malevolent kind of darkness, but rather, a mild kind of darkness, a grayness-"

"- which is like a peace so languid it seems almost like ennui?" he completed for her. 

She nodded. So he was feeling it too. "I've never felt like this before."

"Neither have I. Not even in any of my Vision Quests. This is something different. It feels…" he lifted his shoulders in a frustrated shrug. "Years ago we had a shrine in my neighborhood, which was rumored to be sanctified by the blood of the innocent. It had an… aura which was something like this. When I grew slightly older, I'd passed that aura off as a combination of imagination and suggestion. But now I'm not so sure."

"There's something wrong here," said Janeway with certainty. But what?

Then she heard it.

Singing.

It was the captivating, lilting voice of a young boy, definitely not someone from _Voyager . He sang in a strange, alien tongue. Janeway and Chakotay looked at each other in surprise. Apart from the five away team members, no one else was supposed to be in the planet's surface. Wasting no time, she headed for the source of that voice. Chakotay followed. _

Pushing aside a palm frond with her palm, she nearly ran into a young boy no more than twelve. The singer. His brown eyes widened as he saw Janeway, and he backed away.

"Wait," said Janeway kindly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The child scrutinized her for a moment. He was a skinny boy, dressed in a mixture of white cotton fabrics, most likely homespun, and tanned leather hides. He had a small pouch slug across his chest and a curving silver sickle hanging from it. A few small twigs protruded from the pouch; the tangy pungent smell it was giving off smelt… divine, for the want of a better word. He had rumpled brown hair and chestnut eyes to match. He pulled back as Janeway took his skinny hand in hers and stopped him from running off. He tensed, then relaxed as he realized Janeway meant him no harm. Eventually their curiosities got the better of each other.

"Who are you?" she asked him.

"Who are you?" he asked back. 

"I asked you the question first. There are no civilizations on this planet. Where did you come from?"

"Our daer. No one can find them because we bewitch our villages, and Myriam's the best spellcaster in this portion of the galaxy. No one can get past her charms and find us. Not even you." said the boy. "It's to keep the other Mage out. So they can't find us." The boy took on a distant, faraway look. "Are you from here?" he asked.

Janeway shook her head.

"From a nearby planet in the system?"

Janeway shook her head.

"From within the Preeminence?"

Janeway shook her head slowly, not understanding what he meant. "Who or what is the Preeminence?"

The boy stared at her. "You don't know about the Preeminence?"

"No."

His mouth dropped open and the child couldn't speak for a while. Then he asked: 

"Are you Mage?"

"No."

"Half Mage?"

"No."

"Any relation to any Mage at all?"

"I'm afraid not."

The boy chewed his lip slowly, thinking. "You must come from very far away, then. Do you lead others, traveler?"

"I'm the captain of a ship," said Janeway cautiously, wondering if this constituted a breach of the Prime Directive since she had no idea who or what he was.

"A ship… a small ship, of people like you? Explorers? Scientists?"

"Yes."

"Not people driven by greed or fear?"

"I hope not." Janeway shared a bemused glance with Chakotay, who has thus far remained silent. She kept wondering if this child was part of an illusion, if she was seeing and imagining things. If that was the case then she should get herself to Sickbay as fast as possible.

But if he was real, and there was really this bewitched village he spoke of that could baffle her own sensitive instrumentation, she didn't know what she should do. Initiate first contact? What if they were pre-warp? Could she attribute every strange thing that she did to magic?

The boy scrutinized them briefly, then shrugged. "You don't seem like the type." His eyes seemed to be dancing with some kind of suppressed fire as he looked at them. "Maybe Myriam was right about the Auguries after all!" His gaze started from the level of Janeway's neck, then traveled downwards, and came to rest at her waist level. He reached out for the tricorder, and Janeway tensed. 

"I won't damage it," the child promised, and he took the tricorder. He turned the object over in his hand and examined it. "This is a scanning device of some sort?"

Janeway nodded wordlessly, thankful that whatever situation they boy came from, at least he was slightly acquainted with technology. Dozens of questions burned in her throat, but somehow she sensed that she still would have to wait a while more before she could get answers. So she let the child toy with the tricorder for a while. Chakotay leaned over to her and whispered patiently in her ear, "Captain, we should return to _Voyager."_

Janeway held her hand up, dismissing it.

"It's very nice," said the child as he handed it back to her. Then he cast a wary glance over his shoulder, skittish. "You wouldn't mind if I tried something on you, would you?"

Janeway walked a fine line between caution and curiosity. "Depends on what that something is."

"It wouldn't hurt a bit." The boy licked his lips, nervous. "I'm not supposed to be doing it, but…" he glanced over his shoulder again- "I don't think Nayrn will pick this up, it's only a very small spell." He turned back to Janeway and she could see him trying to suppress his skittishness. "Come on, let's make it fast."

Chakotay gave her a warning glance, but she waved his concerns aside and nodded to the child.

Moving quickly and deftly, the boy reached into his pouch and drew out a small silver ring with a clear ruby-red gem set into it. He sang a few words in an alien tongue and ran the ring a few inches from Janeway's face, as if scanning her with a medical tricorder. Or a metal detector.

Sure enough, the jewel on the ring began to glow with a faint, reddish light.

The boy's expression lit up as he saw the glowing jewel. "See? You _are Mage! I knew it!"_

"Mage?" Janeway looked confused. "As in, a magician? I wasn't aware of that."

"That just means you haven't been trained," said the boy eagerly. "The Ring never lies. You have the ability to Cast…" he suddenly looked uncomfortable again. "Please don't tell Myriam I did that, okay?"

The situation was spinning too fast for Janeway to grasp. "Myriam?"

"She's the leader of the daer, you must meet her, you _have to." The boy suddenly smiled with a dazzling radiance, emanating hope and excitement that was nearly palpable. "You probably won't understand much of it now, being from a place so far away you don't even know of the Preeminence, let alone learn how to Cast… but we have a set of Auguries, ancient texts, which foresaw such like you coming. The Emissary who would help us win the war!"_

"War," said Janeway, suddenly feeling incredibly exhausted. _I must be asleep. That was the only explanation she could think of for this._

"Will you come with me?" asked the boy. "Just to meet Myriam, nothing more. I'm sure she can explain this situation to you a lot better. I'm a lousy storyteller."

Oh, what the hell. Janeway looked at Chakotay, who shrugged deferentially. "Alright, we'll come."

The boy grinned, the started to bolt towards his village. But then he paused as another thought struck him and he turned back. "I'm sorry! I was so excited by meeting you that I haven't introduced myself!" He extended his skinny hand. "I'm Josh."

Janeway returned with a firm handshake. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway."

The boy's eyes grew like round saucers at the mention of her name. Part of Janeway wondered if he'd heard of her before. So maybe they were a post warp society after all… "Incredible!" he exclaimed. "Looks like the Healer was right after all!" And with that he began tearing through the woods at a ludicrous speed.  Janeway cast a glance at Chakotay, then shrugged and followed Josh to whatever awaited them.

Josh slowed his pace down considerably after his initial dash, electing to walk beside Janeway and Chakotay, bouncing up and down in childish excitement. He kept peppering her with questions, and Janeway ended up recounting to him, more or less, what got _Voyager stranded in the Delta Quadrant, and key points on what had happened in between._

All this while Chakotay kept silent. She wished he would help her along with the incessant questions, but he elected to let her continue the conversation with the child. Finally his silence got the better of the Josh's curiosity, and the angled his head to glance at Chakotay. He did so for a long, long while, slowly scrutinizing every inch of massive bulk, down to the tattoo on his forehead. And he studied the tattoo for a very long time. Finally, curiosity got the better of him. "The markings on you forehead… are they family markings?" he asked Chakotay.

"As a matter of fact, they are," he replied to the boy benignly.

"So he's yours?" Josh asked Janeway.

The question caught Janeway by surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"The family markings… Is he yours?" he repeated. "Is he honor-bound to you?"

"Honor-bound?" Janeway wasn't sure if she understood what the boy was asking, so instead she decided to explain her relationship with Chakotay more fully. "He's the first officer of my ship, and he reports- works under- me. We're good friends. I guess he's honor-bound to accept my opinions and courses of action, if you want to put it that way. He's loyal to me." She looked at Chakotay to see how he was handling her explanation of his situation, but the man made no move to contradict or agree with her.

Josh shook his head, reminding himself that he was dealing with complete strangers. "No, I mean to ask if he _belonged to you. If he's supposed to serve you when you become Mage."_

Janeway was shocked. She stopped mid-stride to glare at the boy, wondering how he could ever insinuate such a thing. "I do not _own men! Whatever gave you that impression-" She stopped herself in time. Of course. It must be part of their culture, where men were probably indentured to women. More cautiously, she asked, "Do the Mage do this? Own men?"_

"Of course," replied Josh in a matter-of-fact voice. "Eminences' boys are given away to Mage girls the moment they're born. Every woman owns a man, and when the time comes they must join. It's part of the honor code." He angled a curious glance at Janeway. "I don't suppose your people do the same?" When Janeway shook her head he smiled in amazement. "You are really different. How do you… pair men and women, then?"

"It's by mutual choice. When two people… have a shared understanding and want to spend the rest of their lives together, they get married and stay together. That's how we do it."

"You mean it's not decided the day you're born?"

"Of course not. Marriage is a serious affair; it's a commitment that my people don't treat lightly. We have to choose the right person we want to marry, and we are only old enough to decide after a while. So, no, we're not betrothed to our spouses when we are born."

"And the men? Do they have an equal say in who they want to stay with?" Josh's eyes danced.

"Yes. Do you mean that they don't have that opportunity where you come from?"

"No. I myself was chosen to serve a girl when I grew old enough."

"But will you be happy with her?" Janeway's brow creased at the thought of this sweet young child having to suffer a life of misery because of some flawed, bigoted sexist rule.

He smiled shyly. "I… kind of like her, actually. She's nice. I wouldn't mind serving her when she comes of age." Josh's smile grew wider. "But everyone getting to choose who they want to live with- that's perfect!" He did a small, excited vertical jump on the spot, a motion which was endearingly child-like in manner. "Men as equal to women… That sounds like everything we've been fighting for." He nudged Janeway. "So… are the two of you married, then?"

Janeway laughed. "I'm afraid not."

The boy wrinkled his nose for a moment. "Pity." Then his expression lit up again. "The daer is just up ahead. You might even be able to see it from here… Race you there!" Then he sped away in the direction of the daer. Feeling like a small child again, Janeway grabbed Chakotay's wrist and ran after him.

The daer was beautiful.

The first thing Janeway noticed when she stepped out of the glade of woods surrounding the daer was the grayish white light permeating the entire space. A giant clearing had been constructed in the center of the daer, and a open-roofed circular structure of arched marble pillars and gray granite slabs had been constructed on it. The ambient light streamed through the hole in the top of the structure's dome. A huge slab of white marble had been laid on the floor, the center carved out to accommodate for a fire. Slender tendrils of creeping plants entwined themselves around the pillars, softening its harsh appearance. On the periphery of central structure were numerous other stone houses, all circular or ovoid in shape. Higher up, on the trees, were other residences. There had to be at least a hundred and fifty in this village.

The people came buzzing out of their abodes as Josh yelled excitedly, "They're here! They're here! The ones Myriam spoke of- the Emissaries!"

Mage thronged the central dome, mostly witches in their twenties, young girls with their eyes wide open. Compared to Josh's scruffy appearance, all these females were impeccably neat, dressed in suits of supple hides or shimmering witchsilk. Some reached their hands out to touch Janeway's shoulders in awe, others just bowed their heads in supplication. Janeway found the constant push of warm bodies, the groping hands and the murmurs of amazement disconcerting at the beginning, but she forced herself to relax, telling herself that his was a race not inured as yet to meeting new species. So anyone with technology slightly higher than theirs was considered godly. It was perfectly understandable. At least they weren't overtly xenophobic.

Tiptoeing to be seem in the inexorable crush of bodies, Josh gestured and yelled, "That's the war room over there- Myriam will have an audience with you- just you- in there!" He prodded her in the direction of the room. Then he tugged on Chakotay's arm. "I'll take care of him, show him the men's dorm… anything."

Janeway firmly shook her head once. "He's coming with me," she said crisply.

"I'm afraid not. Men aren't allowed to cross the threshold line." Josh's eyes grew imploring. "Please?"

More pushing and shoving, more hands reaching for her face. "I'm sorry… but this one is going to be the first." She set her jaw, resolute.

Josh looked like he was about to argue back, then he shrugged. "Alright then. But this once and _ONLY this once, okay?"_

Janeway's only response was to tug on Chakotay's hand and pull him away from the clamoring crowds, towards the war room.

Josh watched them enter, then made a headlong dash to the Healer's office.


	4. emissaries, withcraft and war

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**emissaries****, witchcraft and war**

Myriam Ashkar, Head of the Daer-on-Naiad, Coordinator of the Panizhe, sat in the bronze throne at the end of the war room, her gaze focused on the glass ball hovering before her. She watched as the Healer's apprentice brought the woman and the man who'd been wandering at the edge of Naiad over to their daer. An amused smile stole over her face as she watched her Mage come streaming out of their houses, trying to catch a glimpse of the strangers. Travelers to the dark realms of the Preeminence were rare, and these two were their first in a long time. Her smile was evanescent, however, as she remembered the reason why these wanderers were rare in the first place. She remembered the reason why they'd turned this hall into a war room. 

It was a magnificent room, twenty feet high, twenty-five feet wide and twice as long, carved out of slabs of gray marble lifted straight from Vallis Hennai. The walls depicted murals of the first Empresses and the commissioning of the Auguries. It was beautiful workmanship, crafted by the former inhabitants of these daers before the Panizhe had taken over. The décor in the room was ascetic, reflecting the difficult times the rebels had to live through. They had little resources to bedizen their rooms with finery, and Myriam sometimes missed the lazy opulence of the Amethyst Palace which she had grown up in. 

But it was a sacrifice she made willingly if it meant that all of the Preeminence could live with pride and honor just like they used to do. A small price to pay.

She watched as the woman in her viewglobe held a brief argument with the young apprentice. Closing her eyes, she probed and found the source of the woman's unhappiness: the man she came with could not enter the war room. Silently she sent a message to the boy to allow her consort in. It was a small diplomatic gesture she made in deference to the sensitivities of the newcomers. It was a stupid rule, anyway- their war room wasn't even shielded from males, like it was done in some other places.

With a snap of her fingers, she replaced the viewglobe to its rightful place and rearranged her robes in anticipation of her guests. She'd been sitting here since yesterday afternoon when the eight Seers had told her the signs. _About time they turned up._

The massive stone doors to the war room swung open with a light touch of the woman's palm. Myriam noted that with a touch of interest; it was a Charmed door and required the touch of a Mage to open that way- men had to physically push it. So was she Mage too?

She stood at the doorway, staring curiously at the door, then at her palm. Apparently she'd not expected the door to open that easily either. She was about to reach for the instrument clipped to her belt when Myriam called, "Come here, where I can see you clearly."

She paused, then she walked forward to the middle of the hall, coming into the circle of radiant light cast by the circle of stone overhead on the ceiling polished so fine it was transparent. 

A small smile curved Myriam's lips. The woman was slight in stature, small and trim. Her man, in contrast, stood tall, with wide shoulders. Where she was fair, he was dark-skinned, churning with restless energy where he was calm. Both wore the same kind of black-and-maroon suit, probably a mark of their allegiances. And she had red hair, curling around the strong lines of her jaw like a burning flame. Red hair was good. It was always good. Myriam herself was a natural auburn, a trait she had kept from her mother's bloodline. She sent a gentle psychic probe into the woman's mind, like dipping her toe into the surface of a lake to test its temperature. She immediately caught onto a strong current of passionate emotions, sweeping her along with its intensity: love, hate, regret, and a bright, burning determination.

And power. So much power, raw and unchanneled, slammed into her senses and sensibilities it felt like someone had pulled hot wire through her. But yet she kept herself outwardly calm, focusing instead on the source and stem of this wild energy. 

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship _Voyager," the woman introduced herself. Gesturing to her man, she continued, "And this is my first officer, Commander Chakotay."_

Kathryn Janeway. Chakotay. Names which sounded hauntingly familiar. Why? Myriam allowed her eyes to half-lid, giving the illusion of listening whilst her attentions lay somewhere else. Keeping her mindlink to Janeway intact, Myriam probed her own mind for references to this woman. If she was aware of that link, she didn't show it, continuing to tell her about the plight of her starship. The repair of the starship shouldn't take too much trouble; they had plenty of shipyard mechanics around. Myriam was more interested in the crew of the ship. She searched her mind for where she'd heard of these people before, and a name came forth to her, unbidden. Myriam opened her eyes and straightened up.

"Who's B'Elanna Torres?" she asked abruptly, interrupting Janeway in the middle of a sentence.

A flash of emotions, an odd mix between surprise and annoyance, flitted across her features. She blinked, and said slowly, "She's my chief engineer. Do you know her?" 

Myriam felt a touch of suspicion form in the woman's mind as she narrowed her eyes and angled her a cold look. Then, as clear as if Janeway had projected it into her thoughts, she heard her think, **Keep out of my mind. **

Myriam would have fallen out of her chair in shock, but years of training and Casting had gifted her with the preternatural ability to suppress her reactions to the strangest situations. Instead, she sent back, **I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude.**

Janeway's eyes widened in surprise as Myriam spoke to her. **You're telepathic!**

**You sent me your thoughts; so I will send you mine.**

**I… did?**

She hadn't meant to message Myriam. Yet somehow the sheer force of her will had unwittingly intruded on the Coordinator's thoughts. 

**Yes. Perhaps you were not aware of it. This skill is not easy to master… have you had any training of this sort?**

**Training?**** I'm afraid not.**

Chakotay was unnerved by this sudden silence between the two women. "Captain?"

Janeway turned to look at him, then back at Myriam. **He cannot hear us?**

**Of course not.**** He's male.**

**What difference does that make?**

**Males receive thoughts at different frequencies. I am using those specific to females only. And he isn't receptive enough to hear us.**

Janeway frowned, then spoke out loud, probably for the benefit of Chakotay. "The child mentioned that you wanted us to aid you in your war."

"Ah, the war." Myriam would have rather not thought of the subject. "That should be left for later discussion. In the meantime, I'd like you to try something." Myriam's heart was singing. Could the Auguries really have spoken true? This woman could project voices without even being taught. What other miracles might she be able to perform? She had a deep-seated feeling that if anybody could be the Emissaries, it would be them. She called a simple castglobe to her. "I want you to try holding this-" she began.

The door to the war room burst open.

***

The Healer was busy preparing a salve for one of her patients when Josh came bursting into the office, out of breath and incoherent. She watched with a maternal smile as her apprentice tried to string a complete sentence together. "Is there something wrong, Josh?"

"No, Healer!" He sucked in a breath, then blurted out, "They'rehere they'rehere-theonesyousaidwouldcome!! They'rereallyhere justliketheAuguriessaid-"

"Wait. Slow down," she coaxed him, taking him by the arm and leading him deeper into the office. "Who's here?"

Josh sat down on one of the waiting benches. The Healer's office was a simple brick-and-sandstone affair, done in shades of tan and sienna. It was circular in shape, windowless but with a central opening in the domed ceiling which let in the cool gray daylight. At night the torches, in their holders ringed around the office at regular intervals, provided both warmth and illumination. They had one central diagnostic bed and several more secondary patient beds to the side. One half of the walls were lined with shelves containing thick volumes of microstorage wafers, instruments and natural herbs, the other half had benches built out of them, with resplendent brown cushions and a stack of reading materials for those waiting to peruse. The Healer handed the panting boy a warm cup of honeydew sap, which he took and drank eagerly.

"Who's here?" she asked again when he'd finished with the cup.

"The Emissaries," whispered the boy with dramatic emphasis, smiling up at the Healer with an almost divine expression. "I met them in the woods, and one of them says-" He stood up and whispered into her ear.

She drew back, eyes widening in shock. "Are you sure?"

He nodded vigorously.

"That… that's not possible!" She paced the room, hope and disbelief warring for supremacy on her face. "It can't be…" She paused, then turned back to Josh. "Are you absolutely very, very sure?"

He nodded desperately. "I swear by my blood and soul-"

Unreasonably and uncharacteristically impatient, she cut off his oath with a wave of her hand. "You said they were here in this daer? Where are they now?"

"Having an audience with Myriam, in the war room."

This time, it was the Healer who was out of the door in a mad dash.

She arrived at the door of the war room in a whirlwind of excitement, wanting only to see the truth for herself. But before she could palm the door open, she hesitated in trepidation. What if Josh was wrong, and it wasn't who she thought it was? What would she say then? She bit her lip, telling herself that it was likely that the universe was playing a damn trick on her, and she shouldn't get too disappointed when the door opened.  Satisfied, she slapped her hand on the heavy bronze construct.

The doors to the end of the war room slammed open, and she clamped a hand to her mouth to stop herself from crying out. She had known, she had just _known, right from the beginning, that Josh was right. That no matter how much she tried to convince herself that she wouldn't be disappointed just before was really all just a well-meaning farce, that it was unnecessary because that somehow she knew she wouldn't be disappointed._

Myriam, a castglobe in hand, stared at her in complete shock.

Janeway turned and stared at her in complete shock.

She finally found her vocal cords and right of mind to speak. "Captain!"

Janeway stared at her in disbelief. "Kes?"

Myriam smiled cryptically as their Healer crossed the room and gave the Emissary a tight hug.


	5. the magic is real

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**the**** magic is real**

"Magic?" was all B'Elanna Torres could think to say.

The senior crew of _Voyager were gathered in the briefing room. The briefing room's muted earth tones complemented the dark infrastructure in the room, providing a contrast to the green designs on the long oval metallic table and the prismatic primary colors of their shoulder pads. Janeway was standing at the head of the table as usual, addressing the crew. Behind her, the backdrop of the forest provided a refreshing difference to the usual inky void of space.  _

Janeway studied the faces of her crew. They were fine officers, all of them, willing to accept any form of spatial anomaly, no matter how twisted, how absurd. But not a simple touch of magic. 

Initially she'd been just as wary and just as disbelieving as they had been about magic, convinced that it actually been some form of hoax. She thought she had an explanation for everything.

That had been until Kes arrived, of course. Now she would have to enlist her help in helping her crew believe that fairies were real.

"Magic," she affirmed to Torres, ignoring the disbelieving looks from the rest of the crew. Kim looked downright skeptical, eyebrow raised, probably wondering if his captain had lost her mind. Janeway smiled cryptically to herself, realizing that this was probably how she looked to Myriam and Josh when she first heard about their powers. It was time to play the trump.

"Maybe it would make it easier for you to accept if I enlisted the help of someone I met to explain the situation." She gestured in the vague direction of the viewscreen, and as if on cue, a blue glow appeared beside her, coalescing into the form of Kes. 

The shocked reaction in the room couldn't have been stronger if someone had dropped a trilithium bomb into their midst. Neelix rose to his feet, eyes wide. "Kes!"

The tiny Ocampan smiled at them in the gentle, demure manner that she had, and waited for the excitement in the room to subside a little, aware that this crew hadn't seen her- the real her- for three years. The joy of the reunion, however, was restrained by a note of caution. "It's been a long time."

Paris gestured to the forest outside. "What are you doing here?"

Kes' smile widened. "That was precisely the question I asked Captain Janeway when I first saw her. You're not in our original universe anymore. This place is different."

"It has magic," said Chakotay, eliciting more disbelieving stares from the rest of the crew.

"An alternate universe… where people use magic?" asked Kim skeptically. "How does that work?"

"Everyone knows that the universe we come from only has eleven dimensions," began Janeway mildly.

"More or less. It has been hypothesized that there might be one or two more undetected as yet, but the figure is around there," said Kim.

"This one has eighteen."

"Whoa. Damn." Kim's eyes widened and he locked eyes with Seven. "That's way off."

"And this has been proven?" asked Seven, still skeptical. In the room, she was the one who had the least interaction with Kes, and she tended not to trust in the sincerity of this young woman. And her Borg upbringing had left her with a critically analytical mind that was prone to suspicion and disbelief until solidly scientifically proven.

"Many times," Kes assured her.

"To the inhabitants of this world, magic is actually a highly complex science," said Janeway. She nodded in deference to Kes. "Kes can probably explain it much better to you."

Still smiling cryptically, Kes called up a glowing spatial diagram in the air with a small wave of her hand. It was the typical ball-model of the universe's eleven dimensions, the first thing introduced to students at higher quantum mechanics classes. "This is the model of the universe as we know it," she began. "Eleven dimensions, three in the physical world, one in the temporal fabric, and the rest curled up in various degrees and housed within the primary four." She waited for the nods of agreement from the crew before continuing. "Now this is the model of _this universe." Translucent concentric spheres appeared, encompassing the whole model, each larger than the previous one. "Seven extra dimensions."_

"All of them are prevalent in every aspect of this universe, similar to the first three…" said Kim.

"A twentieth century scientist of yours once postulated an ether which pervaded the entire universe. This is the closest you'll ever get to it. Each of these dimensions interact with the physical particles in this world in different ways. They create the forces of chaos and entropy."

"But those forces exist in our universe as well," Paris pointed out. "Where does that put us?"

Kes shook her head. "Consider each universe as a template, and these structures like puppet masters, controlling its behavior on whim. Our two universes can be seen as identical templates, with the same kind of particles, but different puppet masters, one with eleven dimensions and one with eighteen. The ways some things are controlled in these two universes are different. In ours entropic and chaotic forces are controlled by seventh-order and higher dimensions. Here they are controlled by those eleventh-order and higher. Of course, having more dimensions means that there are more ways to pull the strings. Which means you can do some things here which are impossible to achieve in our original universe."

"Including magic," commented Torres.

"Yes. We can interact with these forces as well as myriad others to manipulate the physical matter in this universe in any way we wish just as long as we know how to tug the strings correctly. My… transportation into this room is one of them. It took me half a year to master that trick. There are countless others."

**Like mass telepathy, said Janeway, projecting into everyone's thoughts.**

Everyone in the room sat up.

"I wasn't aware that you had telepathic powers, Captain," observed Tuvok.

"Neither did I," conceded Janeway with a smile. "But apparently I do."

Kim was fascinated. "I wonder how many more of us have suppressed talents such as these?" He looked ready to try sending thoughts of his own.

"You all do," said Kes, "but in varying degrees. Everyone is born bonded to the world in some way or another. As long as you can interact with the world in the first four dimensions, you can interact with the world in all the rest as well."

"This is fascinating," said Torres, intrigued. "_Voyager will be staying on this planet for a couple of weeks. Maybe you could teach us a couple of spells."_

Janeway cast a glance as Chakotay as she next spoke. "Which brings us to another point."

"The war," said Kes softly. "I belong to a group of rebels- the fighting force of the House of Ashkar, who wish to overthrow the current malevolent rule of the Empress. We call ourselves the Panizhe, and this daer- the one in the woods nearby- are its headquarters." She paused. "Here's where the interesting part comes in. The Mage in this sector have a set of ancient prophecies that they call the Auguries. There are many versions and interpretations available of these sets of Auguries, but our favored theory is one in which a group of Emissaries intervene in the war and turn the tide, bringing forth a new Empress and a new Empire." Kes folded her fingers together. "We now think its you."

There was sudden silence in the briefing room as the crew considered this.

"The war may stretch anywhere from a few weeks to a few months," Janeway told them. "We are not obliged to fulfil this prophecy, but these people have as good as sent us a distress call, which we are decreed to reply to. However, I will not proceed without full unconditional support from my crew." She gazed around the room. "If anyone has any objections as to this course of action, please raise them now."

The crew glanced at each other in concern.

Paris shrugged. "Well, we're here anyway. I don't see why not."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the rest of the room. Kes' expression lit up with a smile. "Then we will feast tonight in the daer. You're all invited."


	6. beneath the calm surface

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**beneath the calm surface**

The sky was dark over the Palace of the Eminence, seated in the hub of Algaroth's capital city, Licnok Moor. The gray light filtering through the turbulent clouds played upon the walls of cream and gold, the crystal spires rising hundreds of meters into the air, the trapezoid pyramids built like ziggurats. But the darkness and turmoil in the sky was nothing compared to the darkness and turmoil at the heart of the Preeminence.

For years the Empress had ruled. Not as many years as her predecessor but long enough for the discord and dissatisfaction to build against her. The former Empress had been even more corrupt, more twisted, than the current one was, but she had ruled the Preeminence with fear and an iron grip. This Empress was not so. She had not been forged in the heat of battle, and she lacked the control to keep the vast empire together like her predecessor had. The threads of fear and hatred that she wove amongst her subjects were not enough to keep them in line. They had banded together, conspired against the ruling House of Maldor, the only House left after the former Empress had crushed the rest into oblivion. And now they had consolidated themselves into the House of Ashkar, declaring war upon the ruling House. Led by the fierce Panizhe, the elite group of witches who fronted the Ashkari army, the rebellion had spread to every corner of the Preeminence.

The empire was crumbling. It was dying, torn apart from within by forces of discord and anarchy.

In her private throne room, Empress Nayrn Maldor stretched in her throne, curling up on the silk cushions in her feline manner. Her lithe figure and youthful features belied her seven thousand years, though her eyes, haunted and ancient, had beheld more blood and killing than any living being should. She was a magnificent creature, wielder of Purple Ice, a Warrior and schemer to the core. She studied the long, polished nails on her right hand, gazing at them with glittering yellow eyes while she considered her next move against the House of Ashkar. 

There was a slight movement to her right. The young page girl, Calista, was fidgeting, obviously not used to standing still for long periods of time. She was a daer farther up north had given the child to the Empress several months ago, pledging their allegiance with the House of Maldor. As Eminence embodied, the Empress often received gifts of favor such as these from the various sectors. It was an unwritten rule that each of them had to present the Empress with at least one such gift within one season to keep her favor. Nayrn had been slightly disappointed with this one. Boys were so much better than girls; there was very little she could do with girls, except maybe for decorative purposes. The page girl stood uncomfortably beside the wolfchild, Nayrn's kin-but-not-kin, who was absently playing with her favorite tigress cub. Unfortunately the wolfchild had been no gift from a fawning supplicant, and Nayrn still bared her teeth at the very thought of the one who had cursed her with this burden. She was useless in courts, an unwanted half-breed, staying unobtrusively in the shadows. She Casted with Fire, for Yune's sake! Hence she'd elected not to train the girl in Casting, even though she was likely to be ranked as Scarlet. She would be an aberration in her courts. She was born an aberration, and would die one.

Beside the child, watching with detached interest were her favorite gifts for now: a pair of seraphim twins from Hayle, a girl and a boy with beautiful iridescent wings. Seraphim were reclusive creatures, xenophobes who shunned contact with most other races. In all her years, she had seen only one or two, and the twins fascinated her. They weren't old enough to learn to fly yet, but Nayrn had a few interesting things in mind for them when they did. 

With an annoyed flick of her nails, she dismissed the young page girl. Relieved, the girl slunk off to the nearest exit, out of sight and out of mind. Instinctively, the wolfchild gathered up the large white kitten and followed her, as well as the silent twins. Now. Where had she been before the page girl had interrupted her? Oh yes, her operative in the daer of Maldor. She procured a path towards having one there several years ago when she sensed that that area would become a threat, and now her intuition was paying off. Now she had access to the most sensitive information passing through the Panizhe. 

She smiled ferally as she considered her latest news. Emissaries, indeed!  She'd long suspected that there was something else written between the lines of the Auguries, but she'd never expected anything as ludicrous as the appearance of some wunderkind from another dimension to turn the tide of the war. But apparently things in this universe worked in a stranger way than they should have. She was determined to meet this Janeway her operative spoke of. It would be an… interesting encounter.

Yawning, she bared her sharp canine teeth. Like a ripening _duka fruit, her plans were all growing, and would soon push the Ashkari over the brink of oblivion. She was sure of it._

Calista scampered down the ornately polished corridors of gray and yellow marble, finally coming to a stop in the archway of one of the great junctions. From where she was she could see further down one straight corridor, its windows opening to show the reddish-gray plains of Licnok Moor. She stopped to catch her breath, and was nearly run into by the seraphim twins and the wolfchild.

"Running again, Ashkari spy?" 

The tone was mocking, but the words held no malice in them. Calista planted her hands firmly on her hips and scowled playfully at the lithe girl with the disconcerting amber eyes. "Well, you're following me, wolfchild." 

The girl wrinkled her nose. Like her mother, she possessed the same feline grace and demeanor. Her brindled hair was cropped short, streaked with shades of red and orange, and she had sharper teeth and claws- and a sharper temper- than anyone else Calista knew. Yet she felt no loyalty, no kinship whatsoever to her progenitor. Part of it, she knew, was due to her bitterness about being overlooked in her mother's eyes. She was an incredibly talented Caster, but before Calista had arrived in the Palace she hadn't even the basic knowledge of Casting. But she had that innate sense of rightness, and she'd sought Calista out on the first day she'd arrived, lonely and friendless, Fire seeking Fire. She had _known from the start that Calista was a spy, sent by Myriam. Calista Denadria Ashkar.  So they'd come to a compromise: if the wolfchild kept Calista's secret, Calista would teach her to Cast._

She was a powerfully talented Mage.

"Did you have to give something to your mother?" Falkner asked her, his bright blue eyes glittering in concern. "It's too early for the corridor to be deserted. Can't it wait?" 

Calista shook her head. "I'm just uneasy, that's all." The seraphim boy put his hand supportively on her shoulder, and she blew air between her lips in frustration. She hated all these spying and stuff. It was scary, but her mom had trusted her enough to send her over. Thankfully Falkner and Falda, both fairly anti-Maldor themselves, had elected to help her. With their support, and the wolfchild's, they'd become a formidable power in the dark underground of the Place hierarchy, lording over the servants and attendants. By careful manipulation they'd managed to keep Nayrn and her minions unaware of their plans, no small feat for a group of children no older than eleven years old.

"The Empress has placed a spy in your mother's House," said Falda with certainty. "We must find out who she is." 

Calista shrugged and ran her fingers through her hair. "No-one's come to the daer recently." 

The wolfchild's lips curled. "You underestimate Her Eminence." 

Calista folded her arms and turned from them to move closer to the curved window of tinted glass. She gazed out to the misty distance to where her home daer was. "Whatever it is… A spy in the village or not, I don't suppose this Emissary business is for real. It sounds too good to be true… But, all the same, I hope it's not a hoax." 

The wolfchild scratched the tigercub's head. "I'd like to meet this Emissary person. She sounds… interesting."


	7. the place where we live

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**the place where we live**

The mood in the daer was light as the people prepared for the Feast that night. Myriam had already sent some of the men out to hunt, and had sent Nydea, on of their Warriors, out with them. At the behest of the daer's head, the crew of _Voyager had come to see the daer for themselves. Janeway and Chakotay were given the grand tour by the ever-eager child, Josh. He explained their situation to them._

"It's a long story, you see. Mage live a very, very long time. Myriam is… I don't know, hundreds of years old. Maybe even thousands. I can't remember. I know she's got over a hundred children, and Bryanna's her youngest. So anyway, since the beginning of the Eminence we've always been ruled by Empresses. It's kind of a reversal of your early society, isn't it? Well there were lots of these Empresses, twenty or so I think. Each of them ruled for thousands of years, and the Eminence prospered under them. They made them happy, and the men were contented even in their position of non-privilege. The Empress has this Ring that she wears, it supposedly gives her the power to rule and everyone has to obey whoever wears it. Kes says that the Ring actually chooses who is to be the next Empress, but that's not true, of course, since the current Empress picks her successor.

"Well the third last Empress apparently made a mistake in who she chose as her successor. She picked one of her courtiers, this centauriform woman who was… well, evil, to say in the least." The boy frowned and paused in his speech. "I think she deceived the last Empress- N'hal Maldor her name- into picking her as the new Empress instead of who she'd originally had in mind. So the new Empress gained power, and she put into effect a whole series of events which led to the degradation of Preeminence society. She ruled the people with fear, and she used the Eminent Army to wipe out the Houses which opposed her. She ruled for two thousand years before she died of some horrible disease or the other, and her adopted daughter took her place, the current Empress, Nayrn Maldor. And there are only two Houses left, House Maldor and House Ashkar." His chest puffed up in pride. "I ran away to join the right one."

Janeway took this all in with a detached manner, but inwardly she was staggered. Races who lived thousands of years! Her life would be but a mere flicker to them. At the rate she was going in the Delta Quadrant, expecting to live over a hundred years was a hope too optimistic for her to consider. Yet this child here was cheerfully mapping out the changes House Ashkar would bring over the _centuries if they won the civil war. How were they supposed to be able to help them? "And this civil war has been going on for…" _

"… thousands of years. Ever since House Maldor came into power. Why do you think there's only one House left? And it isn't even an official, recognized House. It's just a name us rebels thought of for ourselves. Myriam says we're finally going to win the war though, because this Empress is much weaker than her predecessor. Myriam's just gotten into power herself, you know, just slightly before I was born. But she's a very good leader." He smiled. "When we win, she promised she'd make me Warlord, and I'd take command of an elite fleet of ships to stop House Maldor from ever winning again." 

"You sound very confident of winning," Janeway told him dryly.

The child looked down for a moment, scuffing his boot of his toe in the sandy soil of the daer. "Well, I didn't use to." The he looked up brightly. "But now I do! Because you came, see… Myriam said you would come, and you did… so she must be right when she said the war would end." 

Janeway said nothing at that, instead glancing out across the daer as if in thought. _Voyager crewmembers mingled amongst the Mage in the village, accompanied by the Mage or men not involved in helping out with the preparations for the feast. Tuvok and Seven, armed with tricorder, were attempting to locate small changes in the structure of the space-time fabric every time someone Cast a spell. Paris and Torres were enjoying their tour together, while Kim seemed to be enraptured by a young Mage with golden-orange hair. A small worry tugged at her heart. These people expected them to be some sort of messiah, and she wasn't really sure if they could live up to that expectation. After all, what could one small ship do against the mighty forces of an empire spanning sixty-three worlds?_

As if he could read her thoughts, Chakotay slipped one hand under her arm and gripped it firmly, as if to reassure her that she wasn't alone in the fight. 

Janeway took a deep breath and tried to banish all thoughts of their impending struggle away from her mind. "Could we see some of the living areas of the daer? The common rooms, anything?"

"Sure," said Josh breezily. "Only the men and the older children have common rooms; Mage live separately in those houses up on the trees. Follow me." And he set out on a loping gait across the central clearing of the daer. 

The common rooms were large stone structures, ovoid in shape and nearly one-and-a-half times the height of the great war room. Josh paused before them and pointed to the one on the left, made of polished yellow agate and a granite composite. "The men stay there," he said. He then pointed to the one on the left, built of gray slabs of basalt. "That's the children's room. I stay there as well. Women aren't allowed in the men's room, but they can go into the children's room." He glanced at Janeway apologetically. "Daer rules."

"It's alright," Janeway assured the boy. "You can take Chakotay; I'll go into the children's room by myself."

Josh nodded, and guided Chakotay towards the men's common room. "This way."

Janeway stepped up to the entrance of the children's room. The bronze double doors towered over her, intricately carved with murals of old Mage legends. She hesitated a little before placing her hand flat on the burnished recognition panel set in the stone wall beside the doors.

The doors swung open silently, streaming sunlight into the interior of the children's room. Janeway stepped through the shaft of light illuminating the dancing motes of dust, and it was like stepping into another world entirely. The doors silently swung shut behind her.

There were children all over this huge room, grouped loosely into girls and boys, each group being more or less subdivided by age. Glowglobes and torches set in the walls of the room filled it with a warm yellow glow, and in the back was a brazier contained within a selectively permeable forcefield barrier. Fragrant herbs and spices burned in it, and the forcefield barrier regulated the scent that was released into the room. The lively murmuring of the children echoed off the curved walls, filling the whole room with a gentle resonance. Janeway felt the beginning of a smile.

All the children looked up as she came in. "It's the Emissary!" chirruped one of the younger girls joyfully. The girls were all seated together in their small groups, listening to the oldest group of girls who were apparently teaching Casting techniques. The oldest girl, an elven girl about sixteen years old with bluish blond hair, motioned her over. 

A small girl, no more than six or seven, came over and slipped her hand into Janeway's, tugging her towards the group. "Come and join us," she said. "I'm Bryanna." Janeway could see her marked resemblance to Myriam: the lifted cheekbones, wide expressive green eyes, and reddish blond hair. She acquiesced, letting the child pull her towards the assembled group of forty-odd girls. In the background, she could hear one of the boys chanting his lesson in a bid to memorize it: "Wave, particle, Other. Three sides of a triangle, three natures of reality. Wave, particle, Other…"

Janeway settled on the floor in the middle of the gaggle of girls, and they clustered eagerly around her. "Welcome to our room, Emissary," said the elfin girl. "I'm Celeste."

"Call me Kathryn," said Janeway.

"Alright then, Kathryn," replied Celeste, smiling. 

Janeway glanced over at the boys in the other side of the room, who had since lost interest in her and were back to browsing at their school texts or staging mock fights with plastic rods as weapons. "Why don't you sit with the boys?  Or is there another rule which prohibits you from making any contact with them?"

One of the younger girls scrunched up her face in disgust. "Boys…. Ewwww. They're disgusting."

The girl seated beside her nodded in agreement. "They stink."

"They're just different from us," protested another girl, slightly older, a slender nymph with dark hair and dark eyes. "They don't like to talk to us."

Celeste nodded wistfully. "We don't talk much with boys. They're… strange to us. Our mothers never teach us much about them, either."

"I see."

Bryanna nudged Janeway with her mind. **Want to join our link?**

Janeway nodded, then opened her mind cautiously out to the rest of the girls. Immediately she caught on to the current of breathless, youthful exchanges, teasing and cajoling in the spirit of female camaraderie. **We mostly talk here so the boys can't hear us, Bryanna told her.**

**Do you like it here? It's the place where we live. A young Mage, no more than five.**

Janeway immersed herself in the threads of conversation, learning the names of all these young Mage. Whilst the younger children were rambunctious, the older ones were more quiet and reserved, trained by years of learning to Cast. Some of the stronger ones were already preparing themselves for a long life as an elite Mage, ruling and protecting the others, like Celeste. Yet there was a certain shyness and hesitance to them as they prodded at Janeway.** What do you know about boys?**

**Boys?**

**Yes. When I asked my mother about them she said I would understand them when I grew up, and you're a grownup, aren't you? Could you teach us about boys? Some of us girls can't even talk to them without feeling uncomfortable, confessed the nymph, Nadine.******

**Well, I suppose I could…**

There was a brief silence, then Celeste asked shyly**, Do you have any… experience with men?**

Janeway smiled at the bashful tone in the girl's voice. **Not much, I'm afraid.**

**Well, do tell us. It was Nadine.**

Celeste twisted her fingers together. **I'll be old enough to join the Warriors when my birthday comes in a few months time, which means I'll have to go through my Union. But my mother won't tell me anything about what to do!**

Janeway picked up the subtle overtones in the girl's voice, and smiled inwardly. A few years ago, she might have considered telepathically giving sex education to a group of young witches strange, but she decided that she'd more or less grown inured to such unusual situations. **I'll try to teach you as much as I can… but on one condition.**

**What? Bryanna asked eagerly.**

**Teach me how to Cast.**

**Okay. A chorus of agreement.**

Somebody prodded her. **Want to learn all the naughty spells? I can teach you, said a young voice.**

Janeway laughed softly at that. It was like joining a coven.


	8. objects in the distance

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**objects in the distance**

Myriam had called them to the war room. On the way there, Chakotay explained whatever he'd learnt of the Preeminence society's workings to Janeway.

"It's basically a matriarchal society," he said. "There are sixty-three worlds in the Preeminence right now. The number has been fluctuating, but it's more or less there. In the old days, each world was considered as one House, but other large bodies, such as multisystem corporations or large extended familial clans were also conferred the title of a House. Each House is ruled by a Coordinator, and she has a sub-Coordinator, and so on. All positions of power are assumed by women, while the males- the woman's mate, most of the time- are their advisors. He has no true power in that sense, as the woman can choose to ignore his advice. All these Coordinators together formed the Senate of the Eminence, and the ruling Coordinator is given the title of Preeminence, the Empress. Custom dictates that the Empress must be Coordinator of a familial House, passing the throne down to her oldest daughter when she dies or decides to retire. Males generally don't have many privileges- they are born without family names, betrothed to a Mage girl before they are a year old, and don't have educational or voting rights."

"No educational rights?"

"They can learn menial trades like, say, quantum engineering or agricultural techniques, but they can't learn how to Cast. This puts them at a distinct social disadvantage to the women."

Janeway nodded. "As Josh said, it's an interesting reversal."

They arrived at the war room, only to find it fairly crowded with Mage as well as a few _Voyager crewmembers. The Mage gathered in clusters around makeshift copper tables, poring over holographic displays of maps, silently conversing telepathically amongst themselves with the occasional murmuring. Meanwhile, __Voyager crew was gathered around a central ovoid table that Myriam must have pulled from somewhere. On top of the table were rows of largish metal spheres, each one of them about the size of a watermelon. They gleamed dully in the light streaming in from the central hole in the ceiling. _

Torres was there, running her hand repeatedly along the rows. "Whatever you're trying to tell me," she said in some exasperation to Myriam, "doesn't work at all."

Harry, standing beside her with Janae at his arm, shrugged. "Maybe you're just not doing it right; after all, the Delaney sisters managed fine. Look!" He ran his hand over the spheres, and in response one of them glowed red dimly. "Stop trying so hard. If it wasn't easy, the women here wouldn't let me do it."

Myriam gestured to Torres. "One of your crew is having problems identifying her strengths," she explained to Janeway. "She has so much power within her, but she can't seem to use it. Could you help her?"

Janeway and Chakotay stood in front of the rows of spheres. "What are these?" Janeway asked with some curiosity. "They're some kind of detector?"

"More or less; they help you sort out which sphere you use optimally and which order you belong to." At Janeway's blank stare Myriam shook her head. "Never mind. I'll explain later." She took Janeway's hand firmly in hers and ran it over the set of spheres. "Now, imagine one of them lighting up."

Suddenly, the sphere in the leftmost corner lit up with a brilliant glow. 

"There. Excellent. A wielder of Scarlet Fire; we can't have too little Mage with talents like yours."

"Just try it," Janeway said softly to Torres. 

The half-Klingon ran her hand over the spheres, but nothing happened. Janeway shook her head and tried demonstrating again, lighting up the same sphere as she did before. Torres shook her head.  

"Hey, both Jenny and Megan Cast with Fire as well," said Kim, trying to change the topic. "And so does everyone else on the ship who's tried… I bet B'Elanna does, too."

"And that's a good thing?" Chakotay asked.

"Ashkar mainly uses the Fire sphere. It'd be hard going for you if you weren't optimized to it," explained Myriam. "It's alright if none of this terminology means anything to you; I'll explain later." She frowned. "But B'Elanna here, she can't get any of the spheres to respond. That's a physical impossibility- as long as you exist in this universe you wield power of _some kind… my feeling is that you're somehow suppressing these powers."_

"Either that, or I don't exist," said B'Elanna dryly, but her voice was tinged with a touch of bitterness.

Myriam sensed her disappointment, and patted her arm in a friendly manner to quell it. "Maybe you're too tense. We'll try again tomorrow."

B'Elanna nodded. "Seven and Tuvok have returned to the ship to supervise the repairs. I guess I'll go help them," she muttered, and walked out of the door. 

Janeway glanced after her in concern. Chakotay put a hand on her shoulder. "Give her some time to brood. She'll be fine soon; I'm sure Myriam can find a way to help her."

The lean Coordinator nodded. "I've seen many cases like hers; but the next few days will be hectic." She gestured to around her. "We're launching an offensive against House Maldor; we need to prepare."

Harry glanced at Janeway. "Janae told me about this. It's mainly going to be a battle on ground, but they'll also have to hold off troops from the Eminent armada in orbit around Algaroth. I've seen some of the royal navy specs, and I think _Voyager can handle them."_

Myriam pulled a thin microstorage wafer out of a pocket and inserted it into a slot grooved into the side of the table. Immediately the holoimager in the center of the table projected a large screen in the air above them, displaying the specifications of a long sculpted starship. "There are about twenty of these ships we have to deal with. They have their own strengths and weaknesses, and we've actually devised a plan to subjugate them… but we need someone to carry it out."

"At the current rate we're going, the repairs to _Voyager will be completed in by tomorrow," said Janeway. "We should be prepared enough by the time the battle comes."_

Myriam sighed. "When dealing with Maldor, you can never be prepared enough."

The feast that night was held in the central clearing of the daer; somehow they managed to accommodate for more than three hundred people from both _Voyager and the daer itself. The senior crew and the high Council for the daer sat around the central table, by the fire that roared in the center of the marble slat. The sun had long ago set, and the stars could be glimpsed amongst the trees and pillars of stone rising up from the ground._

The council was composed of an elite group of high-ranking women, all of whom wielded the strongest combinations for spheres and orders, either Scarlet Fire or Ocher Smoke. Seated at Myriam's right hand was Nydea, their head Warrior, a well-muscled woman. Then there was Kes, their chief Healer. Not far away were Janae, the young Healer/Warrior, and Tabitha, a satyr with elegant horns, a sleek reddish brown coat and a well proportioned upper torso to go with cloven hooves. And there was Dione, an ethereal creature with silver hair, glittering eyes and shimmering skin like gold-dusted porcelain.

And then there was a dark, sculpted woman with fine delicate features framed by wavy brown hair. Kes had introduced her as Loess, their chief Seer. As Myriam regaled the table with tales of bravery and fortitude, she remained silent, gazing at Seven with unusually limpid emerald eyes. Janeway noticed this, and found it odd.

Finally Loess spoke, addressing Seven. "The… metal over your eye, it is an implant, yes?"

Seven regarded her in a strange light as a sudden hush fell upon the table. "That is so."

Loess nodded slowly. "It helps you see."

"Yes."

"You see things others do not." It was not a question.

Seven frowned slightly, considering her words carefully. "Yes…" she said slowly.

"It is a gift." Loess folded her hands together, satisfied. "We worked very hard, and very long to decipher our Auguries. We foresaw that with the Emissary would come our ninth seer."

"I am not a seer."

Loess closed her eyes. "On your starship _Voyager you work in a room full of screens and consoles. Each of them is connected to sensors which help you seek clues about your surroundings. You take these clues, and you arrange them into a possible truth, a hypothesis." She opened her eyes to gaze at Seven again. "Am I wrong?" When the ex-Borg declined to reply, she continued, "That is what Seers do. We have a gift for seeing patterns in multiple dimensions and extrapolating on them. We can tell the drift of a current just by looking at the twigs drifting on the surface."_

Seven tilted her head slightly. "Do you always speak in metaphors?"

Loess replied in kind. "Do you always speak like a machine?"

Polite chuckles broke out across the table. Janeway decided that Loess had a point.

Seven cast a basilisk glance at Paris, who was giggling the loudest of all, before returning her gaze to Loess. "It seems unlikely that I have been in possession of this skill and not been able to manifest it for such an extended period of time."

"I wouldn't know about that," Neelix rebutted. "After all, the captain has never manifested any magical powers herself…"

"Except taking one small ship through the most treacherous regions of space intact," interjected Kim.

"That wasn't magic, it was sheer luck and determination on all our parts," said the Doctor, in mild irritation. "After all, what would the crew have done without their medical practitioner?" 

Janeway didn't push the point with him, knowing that their doctor was slightly miffed by his apparent inability to Cast: although Myriam insisted that there was a way for him to harness his magic, so far he hadn't responded to any of the spheres. Well, at least he had a comrade in Torres, as well as most of the men at the current time. Instead she turned to Seven. "Well, there's no harm in trying some predictions. How do you think the Battle for Haldon will turn out?"

Seven stared at her like she'd grown an extra head. "Make a… prediction?"

Myriam nodded, interested. "How do you think the battle will turn out?"

Seven's frown deepened. "There are only two outcomes to the situation: success and failure. Since the two forces at work are equally matched, it falls to random factors to determine the outcome; hence the statistical probabilities of success are"-

Paris cut her off with a wave of his hand. "We don't want to hear the mathematical part of it, we want to know what you _think."_

"Close your eyes and tell us what you see," added Kim.

Loess held up her hand. "Don't push her." She shook her head. "The path to true sight must be spontaneously sought out; it cannot be forced. It must come to her naturally."

"Perhaps some meditation might assist you in achieving the proper state of mind for these… revelations," suggested Tuvok. He was obviously proud that Kes, his former protégé, had come thus far, and was now looking to Seven as a potential new student.

"Give her some time, Tuvok," said Chakotay. "Everyone is new here. We still have so much to learn; there isn't enough time to learn others which people already know."

Seven nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Commander," she said softly, relieved. The prospect of everyone's hopes hinging on whatever she said was slightly unnerving, even for the ex-drone.

All through the feast Torres had been silent. Finally she spoke. "We should prepare ourselves as much as possible for combat with the Maldorian forces." There were murmurs of agreement; there was still so much to be learned. "We only have three days."


	9. a briefing in the mess hall

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**a**** briefing in the mess hall**

_Voyager had finished her extensive repairs in the record time of under a week, leaving the crew a few days free to pick up rudimentary magic skills. For this purpose the ship was in orbit so that the men too could grasp the most basic of the basic without the Empress taking notice of this breach of protocol._

When Torres entered the Mess Hall Paris and Kim were engaged in psychic wrestling, the latest fad on board the ship. The two players floated a cup of water in the air between them, and tried psychically tipping it over onto the opponent. Kim looked like he had the upper hand, and the meniscus of the water trembled perilously close to the lip of the glass nearer Paris. Seated at the same table, Tuvok and Neelix watched on in interest.

But as Torres approached their table, the two men quickly dropped the cup back on the table, knowing that she didn't like others flaunting their talents in front of her. She was touched by their sensitivity, but it was a bittersweet sensation. She desperately wanted to join the ranks of those who could Cast- even Tal Celes, the fumbling Bajoran from Astrometrics, could do so much more than she could. It was infuriating, to say in the least.

However, she hid her feelings behind that wall she'd grown so accustomed to using as she placed the padd she was holding in her hand on the table. "These are the specific instructions for the battle tomorrow against the Maldorian fleet," she said, sitting down beside Paris. The other four listened attentively.

"It'll be a tight battle. House Ashkar has precious few ships, and most of them are guarding coveted outposts throughout this sector against Maldorian attacks. We'll have a small battle cruiser aiding us, but it's not of much help when we're up against twenty monsters.

"The plan is this. _Voyager and the Ashkari ship will provide a distraction while the __Delta __Flyer, manned by Seven and Lt. Paris, slips into the heart of the Maldorian fleet and target its shield generator." She tapped a control, and the padd projected an image of the shield generator. "The rest of the fleet's vital stats are slaved to this one, so knocking out this generator will kill the shields of the rest of the fleet, leaving them vulnerable to attack." She shook her head. "It's a stupid design."_

"Not necessarily so," Tuvok countered. "There are several advantages to centralized control: the fleet only has one crucial point to defend, for example."

"Their loss, then." Torres switched views to show the schematics of _Voyager's bridge. "Duties for tomorrow will be as per normal, except that Tom and Seven will be replaced by Kes and the Doctor respectively."_

"Kes is flying _Voyager?" asked Neelix, beaming. _

"She's going to do a terrific job," Paris assured them effusively. At Torres' pointed glare he shrugged. "Hey, I trained her all those years ago, didn't I?"

Kim waved their concerns aside with his hand. "How about on the ground? How's Myriam coordinating the attack?"

"The war on the ground is of no concern to us; we should focus on our performance in our battle instead," Tuvok told them crisply.

"Not true. If we have to crash the party down there, I want to know which side of the lawn I'm going to be landing on," protested Paris.

With an acquiescent sigh, Torres pulled up a map of Licknok Moor and it's neighboring territories. "This is our daer, beside the Hy river in the Kundzan forest, off the edge of Licknok Moor." she said. "The hub of the capital city is here, to the south, and this is the Eminent Palace, where the Empress stays." She traced a circle around the sprawling residence of the Eminence. "Haldon is about five miles south of our daer and seven miles north from the hub of Licknok Moor. If we manage to take this city it'll be House Ashkar's first outpost in Licknor Moor itself.

"Myriam has split the Ashkari forces into six groups, and each one is going to station itself at even intervals around Haldon. It's a very large daer, almost a district in itself, but it doesn't have much in the way of Maldorian troops. We should be able to subdue them very fast and push through to the center of the daer." She smiled at the group around her. "Piece of cake, isn't it?"


	10. room for standing trial

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**room**** for standing trial**

Seven was attempting to mediate in Astrometrics. It wasn't very effective, and the lit lamp was a combustion hazard. Yet she persevered, adhering to Tuvok's guidelines to see beyond the material presence of the fire, attempting to keep an open mind. Yet after a whole hour she hadn't seen any visions. She was ready to dismiss the technique as inefficient and that she would be better off spending her time preparing for the upcoming battle when the captain walked into the room.

Captain Janeway seemed to be in possession of a strange vibrant aura. Seven knew that she had been spending a considerable amount of time both planetside and with Kes, learning simple and intermediate spells for battle, as well as devising a few which would keep their shields enhanced during the battle. It was a fact that the Maldorian cruisers would be fortifying their shields and weapons with magic, and it seemed only appropriate that _Voyager readied herself with its conjugate type of energy._

Seven had downloaded all the information about the structure of magic from _Voyager's database into her implant, and she knew that each of the seven extradimensional spheres (as they'd grown to call them) possessed a characteristic type of magical energy. The Fire sphere was the furthest out, followed by Smoke, then Air, Wind, Storm, Water and finally Ice. The Fire sphere, being the most distant, contained the greatest reservoir of energy, and also required the most skill to manipulate. The energy of the Fire sphere was generally considered to be constructive. Conversely, the Ice sphere, being the closest, had the least reservoir of energy and required the least skill to manipulate. It was considered to be destructive energy, and Fire and Ice were antagonistic spheres. Likewise Water and Smoke were antagonistic spheres. The Wind sphere was considered ambivalent because it neither was constructive nor destructive, and it had no antagonist. _

And then there was the ranking of each warrior's strength. Each of the seven ranks corresponded to being the strongest in one of the spheres. Scarlet Fire, Ocher Smoke, Saffron Air, Emerald Wind, Cerulean Storm, Turquoise Water and Purple Ice were the strongest combinations. The strength of a combination decreased with the distance of the rank from the optimal for that person's preferred sphere, like Ocher Fire, Scarlet Smoke and Saffron Smoke were all one step away from the strength of the top-ranking combinations. 

Ashkar fought with Fire, Maldor with Ice. Customarily there was no such preference within a House, but because the Nayrn favored those who wielder Ice so much Maldor was mostly composed of wielders of that sphere, and those wielding Fire or similar were so ostracized they were the first to band together to strike out. By sheer luck, or perhaps due to their differential origins, the crew of _Voyager Casted exclusively with Fire or Smoke. The captain, like herself, was a wielder of Scarlet Fire, one of the strongest on the ship. And according to Kes, she was a fairly quick study as well, unlike Seven, who'd spent the past few hours meditating with no results to show for it._

Janeway greeted her with a smile. "How's the meditation going?"

"I am uncertain as to the possible outcomes of this exercise," Seven regretfully told her. "Thus far, I have been unable to produce tangible results of any sort."

Janeway patted her on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "It's alright. All you need is time."

And suddenly Seven said, "She will face three trials."

"I beg your pardon?" Janeway's grip on Seven's shoulder tightened as she stared at her drone crewmember in concern.

"She who must fulfil her destiny will face three trials. She will be pushed to the limits of her endurance but she will return, stronger and triumphant, and claim the prize that is hers." Seven's gaze was blank, staring off into the distance in an unfocused manner. "She will come."

Janeway shook Seven's shoulder slightly. "What do you mean?"

Seven blinked, and seemed to come back to reality. "Captain?" She glanced around Astrometrics, slightly confused. "What just happened?"

"You said something about three trials…" Janeway faced her seriously. "Looks like you've made your first prediction."

Seven frowned slightly, trying to recall the sensation. "I… was in a white place. Someone placed a large book in front of me. All the words were written in a strange tongue. As I tried to read them the words changed."

"And they told you about someone who had to… face three trials to fulfil her destiny?" Janeway prodded.

"Yes."

Janeway tilted her head sideways, eyebrows raised, in a gesture of acceptance. "Well, it sounds fairly reasonable to me. Stock predictions from any fantasy tale, as a matter of fact." At Seven's puzzled glance, she laughed. "I've been reading a few novels since we've arrived. It's a very interesting genre. You should try it sometime."

"After this battle," Seven promised.

Janeway nodded, the reminder of their Herculean task ahead sobering her. "Yes… after the battle."


	11. 'there's something wrong'

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**"there's something wrong"**

Chakotay stepped into the captain's ready room, hoping that she was there. It was an hour before the offensive was due to take place, and the ship was in a frenzy of preparation. He was somewhat relieved when the doors slid open smoothly, indicating that the captain was present.

She wasn't there. But, strangely, Naomi Wildman, the young daughter of Samantha Wildman, was. The half-Ktarian girl turned to smile at Chakotay as he came in. "Hi."

"Naomi, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in your room? The battle's about to begin." And how did the child get into the room in the first place?"

Naomi shrugged. "The battle hasn't begun yet. Chelon let me in." She gestured to the large prehensile plant the captain kept in her ready room, a gift from one of the races in the Delta Quadrant which they had encountered. She grinned. "Chelon says hi."

_Charming, thought Chakotay, deciding to play along with the girl. "Hello, Chelon. How are you doing today?"_

Naomi turned back to the plant briefly, then returned her gaze to Chakotay. "It says it's doing fine. Although a little bit of water would be helpful."

Chakotay nodded, groping under the captain's table for the watering can he knew she kept somewhere, hiding a smile. "Just as long as he doesn't grab me."

"It won't. I made it promise."

Chakotay watered the plant in mild amusement. "And does Chelon happen to know where Captain Janeway has gone to?" he asked, half-jokingly. 

Naomi consulted the plant for a minute. "She's on the way from Engineering."

"Thanks." Chakotay finished watering the plant, and replaced the watering can. "Hey, he didn't grab me."

"Of course not. Chelon's a very honorable plant. It never breaks promises." Naomi got up from her cross-legged stance on the floor and dusted herself off. "I guess I'd better get going," she said. "Chelon says the battle's starting soon, and I don't want my mom to get worried."

Chakotay took her arm and escorted her out of the room. "He's right. Chelon's a very wise tree."

"Plant," Naomi corrected him. "Chelon doesn't think it's big enough to be called a tree."

Naomi and Chakotay took the turbolift down to Deck 12. Janeway was just coming up that way, and Naomi bud the commander goodbye and scampered off to her quarters. The captain took Chakotay by the elbow. "Just the person I wanted to see." At Chakotay's bemused look, she asked, "What?"

Chakotay shook his head. "I just had a very… interesting conversation with your prehensile plant."

"Oh, so you've been talking to Chelon too? I didn't expect you could. I thought it spoke only to females. Did it actually contact you telepathically?"

It took a while for the ramifications of Janeway's words to sink in. "Wait… are you saying that the plant is _sentient?" He reeled. "I thought Naomi was just playing make-believe!"_

 "You thought that Naomi was-" Janeway started to laugh. "No, it's true. I, too, got a nasty fright the first time it spoke to me. But Chelon is sentient- and furthermore, it's over seven hundred years old."

Chakotay took in a deep breath and tried to think rationally. "The plant you've been keeping all this while is sentient," he said. "Damn."

"It thinks you're amusing." She tugged him into the turbolift. 

Chakotay tried to collect his wits. A sentient plant, talking telepathically to the rest of the crew. The universe, it seemed, still had its surprises in store for him. "Well… I'd like to be able to talk to him someday."

"I'll teach you… when we get the chance to." The lift rose towards Deck 1. "Meanwhile, there's something I wanted to show you."

Chakotay nodded. "I just got a report from all sectors. We're cleared for action."

Janeway nodded. "I know." **We have out own communication system too, you know.**

"Right." Chakotay smiled and hoped it didn't look too nervous. So the women had their own telepathic mindlink? It was an unnerving thought. And the relative ease in which his captain had sent him a message implied that she had had some practice with it. With all these strange powers at their disposal, it's no wonder that the women have the upper hand against the men in this society.

If Janeway could read his thoughts she didn't make any signal that she could. Instead she prodded him out of the turbolift as it arrived at the bridge. Kes and the Doctor had already assumed their positions. "In my ready room," she told Chakotay. He obediently followed her in.

Janeway walked around her ready room, giving Chelon a pat as she walked past, then finally settling on the couches beside the observation window. She gestured to the spot beside her. "Sit."

Chakotay sat down and gazed at her, wondering what she wanted to show him.

"Give me your hand."

He held his hand out to her, and she took it, palm up. **Relax, she said. **

He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. He thought of his Vision Quests.

Suddenly she was in there with him, standing in the blank whiteness of his mindscape. She blinked, and took a few tentative steps towards him. She was shaky, but she managed it. "I want to teach you a simple spell before the battle begins."

"I can't use it."

"I don't think Nayrn is going to be paying much attention to what you're doing when she's coordinating a battle on the ground. It's a simple healing spell. It might come in useful."

"The doctor's on the bridge." 

"He has other duties to perform. This is a precaution. Let me show you how it's done."

And she did, step by step, teaching him how to stimulate the simplest of body cells to regenerate, to produce the enzymes and proteins required for healing, how to stitch broken bones together, how to mend vascular tissue and so on. As he tried to emulate her steps he could feel them together, their minds and souls powerfully linked as one, with the thread of magic running through. Connecting them. He felt the deep chasm of power at his disposal, power that they could use at their whim.

It was intoxicating.

He blinked, and he was back on _Voyager again, feeling the physicality of the world around him. She was still holding his hand, and her palm felt warm against his skin. He took another deep breath, trying to absorb whatever she'd just taught him. _

She gave his hand a short, firm squeeze. "Everything alright?"

He nodded, feeling a sudden lassitude come over him. He just wanted to sit there forever holding her hand, feeling the warm tangibility effusing from her. But they had a battle to fight.

A communiqué from the bridge alerted them. It was Kes. "Captain, I've had word from the Ashkari forces on the ground. They've begun their offensive on Haldon… and there's something wrong."


	12. fire in the sky

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**fire in the sky**

_Voyager streaked across the sky, pursued by one of the Maldorian cruisers. It was a huge, modular, four-hundred-crew-strong affair, and __Voyager was dwarfed by it. Furthermore, it had Ice-enhanced shields, glowing blue in the inky darkness of space. Yet they bravely took it on._

In the _Delta __Flyer, Seven and Paris prepped for the fight even as __Voyager came under attack, shaking under them. Their instructions were clear: disable the shielding on the Maldorian cruiser, then leave __Voyager to finish the job for them. The __Delta __Flyer was a small ship, and hopefully it would escape close scrutiny by the cruiser._

On the bridge Chakotay felt unconscionably nervous. He could feel Janeway's coiled tension as she sat in the chair beside him, and he knew that she hadn't been as uncertain as this in battle since a very long time. He kept trying to reassure himself that this ship was no different from any other that they had fought, and probably would be no more than cannon fodder with the likes of the Borg, but somehow he couldn't convince himself. He wished there were more women on the bridge to help Janeway and Kes in the event that the battle came down to pure clash of magical powers. None of the men had so far been taught how to cast anything significant, save for him, and what little he had learned hardly qualified as a battle spell. But he'd been reluctant to raise the point during the last briefing because he knew it was a touchy subject with many of the men- and not to mention Torres.

Ashkari fighters spilled from the cruiser with them, their glittering red Fire-enhanced shields clashing with the cool blue lancets of Ice energy shooting from the Maldorian cruiser. As the _Delta __Flyer slipped in amongst them, Janeway gave the order to fire. "Photon torpedoes, full spread."_

"Torpedoes away," replied Tuvok crisply.

_Let's see how their shields stand up to conventional technology, thought Chakotay as six bright spots flew towards the Maldorian cruiser. _

Torpedoes met shields, and there was a brief cataclysmic flare of light. When it had cleared, the cruiser's shields glowed a little less blue than before. Chakotay smiled in victory.

Then the Maldorian cruiser began attacking them with its own short sharp bursts of energy. They passed through _Voyager's shields like a knife through soft butter, crawling over her hull and nacelles and surging through the newly repaired warp core. The ship shook._

In Engineering Torres gritted her teeth in frustration as other female members of her team closed their eyes and fueled energy to the warp core, repelling the Maldorian attack, while she could do nothing except monitor signals. She had jerry-rigged one panel to display the stats of the _Delta __Flyer, and she periodically checked back on it to see that it was doing okay. _

In the _Delta __Flyer, Paris slipped the ship quietly amongst the fighting Ashkari ships, closer to the vulnerable underbelly of the lead Maldorian ship. Somewhere here was a weakness they could exploit. He turned back to look at Seven at the weapons console, but she was silent, her gaze fixed on the Maldorian cruiser, searching with tendrils of Fire._

 "I've found something," she said abruptly. "It is an exhaust port leading from their main propulsion system. It is inefficiently shielded. Our phasers are likely to penetrate into the infrastructure." Her fingers worked the controls swiftly, and the _Delta __Flyer's phasers drilled into the Maldorian cruiser._

There was a brief explosion and the cruiser rocked violently, injured. Paris let out a war whoop of victory as the breach in the cruiser's hull began venting plasma.

His cry was cut off by a violent lurching of the _Delta __Flyer as a massive wave of Ice energy slammed into it._

Things were going just as badly on the ground.

The small Ashkari forces, led by the Panizhe, were badly outnumbered by the Maldorian ground troops. Although many of the Ashkari warriors were strong, wielders of Saffron Fire or its equivalents and higher, the odds did not look to their favor. Each of them found themselves besieged by at least eight opponents, and the uncasted males were suffering the most.

Coordinating the battle a mere few miles away in the war room, Myriam was agiatated. "How much longer till Haldor is secured?" she asked Janae.

"From the looks of it, none too soon," the young Warrior-Healer replied. "The fighting has broken past the south gates, but it's a hard push for those in the north." She gestured towards the battlefield in the city, where buildings were being razed and civilians were running for cover. "There's no way we could secure the city until we storm their central fortress, and we need all six gates to be broken through to accomplish that!" She blew air through her lips. "We're not going to make it, Myriam. We're outnumbered ten to one!" She pointed to one figure on the battlefield, doing a deadly battle dance with countless others. "Look at Nydea! She's heading off with eighteen Maldorians!"

Myriam's eyes narrowed. Nydea was a wielder of Scarlet Fire, but she wouldn't be able to hold out for long for such a vicious attack. She swore silently. They were supposed to be facing off a small garrison of fifty, thamade, not an army of five hundred! How did Nayrn get wind of their battle plans? There was no time to consider that; they were desperate now. It was time for a change of plans. "Do we have enough power to carry out a total annihilation?"

Janae's eyes widened as she glanced around the roomful of Warriors. "Plenty, if we count all those on the field, but… Myriam, do you know how much destruction that would cause? The Fire sphere will be unusable for days! We'd be vulnerable to attack!"

"We can fall back on the Smoke sphere. We're not as attuned to it, I know, but it should hold out for defense." At Janae's skeptical look, she sighed. "Look, we have no other choice. Haldon is critical to our plans. We cannot afford t o lose this battle."

Janae pondered this for a moment, then nodded. "I must concur. Shall I tell the other Warriors?" She gestured to the field.

Myriam paused in thought, then shook her head. "Let me do it. Send a message to _Voyager."_

On the bridge of _Voyager, Janeway leapt to her feet as the __Delta __Flyer was pummeled by a wave of blue Ice energy, coruscating against its shields. A small ship like the __Flyer wouldn't hold up long against the attack, and __Voyager  had to create a diversion, something to draw the Maldorian cruiser's attack away from it._

Moments later, a tremor ran through _Voyager as backwash from the initial attack swept through her._

Janeway said nothing, merely standing in the middle of the bridge and staring at the viewscreen.

The _Delta __Flyer got more Maldorian punishment._

Still Janeway did nothing.

Concerned, Chakotay headed for her, wondering if she had fallen under some sort of spell. "Captain…"

She made no response, and Chakotay realized it was because she had shut her eyes in concentration, focusing her energies on the _Delta __Flyer, keeping its shields up against the Maldorian attack. He glanced over and Kes and a chill ran though him as he saw that she was piloting the ship with her eyes shut._

The next wave of destructive energy hit _Voyager as well, draining her shields in a manner no other weapon ever had. The ship listed violently to one side. Janeway winced and refocused her efforts, her breathing labored as she fought against the powerful attacks of the Maldorian cruiser. _

"Commander," said Kim softly, "there's a message from the planet. Janae says that the Warriors are going to unleash a single-blow devastation on the Maldor, but the energy requirement is going to throw the whole of the Fire sphere out of equilibrium. She tells us to be careful."

Chakotay gripped Janeway's shoulder. "Did you hear that, captain?"

If she heard, she gave no indication as another wave of Ice destruction came sweeping over to them. 

The _Delta __Flyer suffered even more._

In Engineering, Torres growled dangerously as the warp core surged bluer than normal for a minute, then subsided as the engineering team brought it back under control. She felt incapacitated, useless. 

Another surge of energy. Bleeps of alarm came from the console she'd rigged to display the _Delta __Flyer's status. Concerned, she rushed over to see. The shields of the __Flyer had buckled under the attack, and breaches were forming in the hull. Atmosphere was leaking out, they were venting plasma, circuitry overloads-_

The rankling irritation that had been bothering her for days simmered and boiled over into anger, pure anger. Tom was being hurt by these monsters, and she couldn't do a damn thing about it because she couldn't harness any of her powers! Her rage, fueled by the constant shaking of the ship, mounted. Snarling, she imagined smashing the Maldorian cruiser to bits with her bare hands.

And without realizing why or how, she had unleashed a righteously angry torrent of energy rushing towards the cruiser. 

The bridge of _Voyager shook as a concentric circle of red light spread from her, rushing towards the Maldorian cruiser, slamming into the Ice-enhanced shields and withering them away to nothing. The shields of the __Delta __Flyer glowed bright red as the wave of Fire energy rushed past it. The energy crashed onto the Maldorian cruiser, and it seemed to glow from the inside out for a moment._

Then it was expanding in a huge fireball, blossoming out towards _Voyager._

As the first shockwave hit the Intrepid-class starship, another concentric ring of Fire energy spread out on the surface of Algaroth, ripping through Maldorian ranks like the arrival of Armageddon. 

The fight was over.

When the light had cleared and Chakotay was able to breathe again, he gazed out at the starfield. The _Delta __Flyer was limping back to the ship. Both Seven and Paris were apparently shaken but otherwise unharmed.  "What was __that?" Kim wondered out loud._

Kes turned and smiled with wry amusement. "Looks like B'Elanna found a way to harness her powers after all."

Torres. Of course. He nodded to Kes, then turned to Janeway. "Captain?"

She turned to address him, and he was shocked. She was _exhausted, totally and utterly exhausted. He knew that every battle always took something out of her, but he'd never seen her so completely drained before. All the color had gone from her cheeks, and her skin, so pale it looked translucent, seemed to be painfully stretched over her cheekbones. Dark shadows danced under her limpid blue eyes, making them look unnaturally wide. It was as if she'd aged ten years in twenty minutes. She opened her mouth to speak, but the effort made her sway slightly on the spot. Alarmed, Chakotay grabbed her waist, and he felt her sag slightly in his arms. He noted with a growing chill that she seemed to have lost a weight- a lot of it- just within the space of one battle. Considering that she'd started out with only ninety pounds in the first place, she was damned near just skin and bones right now. Quietly shushing her, he slowly guided her back to her chair as the rest of the bridge watched on in concern. She slumped in her seat, looking like a fragile porcelain doll._

Kes followed them from her station and gave Janeway a once-over, and her small brow creased. "She exhausted every last reserve of energy she had to protect _Voyager," she told Chakotay. _

Janeway barely managed a ghost of a smile. "Myriam must have forgotten to tell me about that."

Kes placed a gentle hand on her forehead, sang a simple few words, and a warm glow of energy passed over Janeway for a brief moment. All the remaining tension in her seemed to go out of her as she slouched further in the chair. "You must rest."

Janeway nodded, her eyes closing. "Take the ship back to the planet…" That was as far as she got before she fell asleep, lulled by Kes' relaxation spell.

Chakotay stood with a small half grin. "I guess this means that we'll have to clear the mess of our ship up ourselves." He nodded to their Vulcan security chief at Tactical. "Tuvok, get damage control on the task…" He picked his captain up, an easy feat, considering that she weighed next to nothing right now. She snuggled against him like a small child, curling up sleepily in his arms, lost to the world. "…While I take care of _this mess."_


	13. from the brink of apocalypse

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**from the brink of apocalypse **

He stayed with her for three days as she recovered slowly from her ordeal. He'd put her on the couch in her ready room, and she slept continuously, curled up under a thick woolen blanket. All that while he stayed in the ready room and never left it. He read, issued commands, and unsuccessfully tried to hold conversations with Chelon. At regular intervals he'd gather the herbs and ingredients Kes had left for him to make her a healing brew. At other times he'd just sit by her side, holding her small hand in his and trying to heal her with the simple spell he'd learnt.

On the third day he made the healing brew as usual, pouring the thick brown liquid into a green earthenware bowl. Putting the bowl on the floor beside the couch, he rearranged himself, cradling her head in his lap. He picked up the bowl, and tilted her head back, pushing the bowl against her lips. "Drink this," he told her softly, although he knew that she was too lost from the world to hear him. The tactic had worked in the past few days, why not today?

He was pleased to see that she looked much better than when he brought her in. The color had returned to her cheeks, and she'd regained most of the muscle mass she'd lost in her frantic dash against the Maldorians. The fever she'd developed a couple of days ago was gone, and her breathing no longer had that halting quality it had at the peak of the fever. That night he and Kes had maintained a ten-hour vigil by her side, so worried that the shallow breaths would stop and never return. But she had broken through the night and made her way back to recovery. She had won.

As he tipped the bowl slightly for her to drink, she abruptly stirred, waking. He immediately set the bowl down and took her hand. "Kathryn." Closing his eyes he sought to touch her mind.

Her clear blue eyes fluttered open as she stretched slightly. "Chakotay?" she asked groggily. "What just happened?" She pushed herself into a sitting position, and he helped support her. "I can't remember…"

"There was a battle. You nearly killed yourself trying to protect the ship from harm."

"I remember that. But what happened after?"

"We won the battle. Kes hypothesized that in your weakened state the resulting backwash and instability from the annihilation blast wiped out whatever reserve of energy you had left. You've been sleeping ever since then."

"How long? Weeks? Months? Years?"

Chakotay laughed softly. "Nowhere that long, I'm afraid. Three days; I'd have died of boredom otherwise."

"You've been here all this while?"

Chakotay shrugged. "I needed to monitor your progress. There were some times when we weren't sure if you'd make it." He took her hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, glad that they no longer felt like they were going to break at the slightest pressure.

"I had a fever, didn't I?" she asked. He nodded, and she leaned back on the couch, gazing out at the greenery by the window in thought. "I remember that part… it was like being lost in a featureless world. I turned and turned but I couldn't find the way back to my body. And then I heard you and Kes calling me back, and it helped me find the way." She smiled. "Thank you."

He said nothing for a while, then he reached out to brush a few strands of stray hair away from her face. For a few moments, blue eyes met brown and shared a spark of mutual understanding. Then he broke contact, picking up the bowl of healing brew from the floor. "Here, drink this."

Janeway took the bowl and looked at the thick brown liquid warily. "I hope this isn't leola root stew."

"It isn't. It's worse- it's a herbal brew for healing. Kes' own recipe." She made a face, and he laughed. "It isn't that bad either; you've been drinking it for the past three days."

She tentatively took a sip of the broth-like brew, and nodded. "Compared to Mr. Neelix's occasional new foray, this is mild."

"You've gotten the rest of the crew very impressed, by the way," he told her as she drank the brew slowly. At her incredulous look, he elaborated, "Harry checked up on the shield generators- or what was left of them. They were completely burnt out during the first onslaught of the Maldorian attack; the only thing holding up the _whole ship for the remainder of the battle was __you. Given all that, collapsing on the bridge seems too trivial a result." He smirked. "Myriam could hardly believe you had enough power to hold a ship as massive as this together."_

"How are Tom and Seven?"

"They're fine. The ship is fine; the whole crew is fine. We had some minor injuries, but nothing serious. Nothing as bad as yours, at any rate." He gave a frank gaze. "The crew has been pestering me non-stop for the past few days about your progress."

"Really." She shook her head, then abruptly looked back at him. "By the way… you wouldn't have any bread to go with this soup, would you?"

He obligingly got up to replicate a loaf of French bread for her. As he keyed in the commands to her replicator, he remarked casually, "They've been charting your weight gain in the Mess Hall for the past few days."

He imagined he heard her spluttering on her brew. "What? My... weight gain?"

He headed back with a small warm loaf of bread, and he tore off a hunk and handed it to her. "As an indicator of your health. You lost nearly thirty kilograms of mass trying to burn enough energy to draw off the power you needed from the Fire sphere."

She dipped the bread into the brew and considered. "We won, didn't we?"

"Of course. As soon as you're well enough we'll go to see Myriam."

She sobered as she ate, pondering on what she'd learnt in the past. "Chakotay… you heard what Kes said. We've crossed over a dimensional barrier to get here. Have we considered how we're going to return to our original dimension… wherever that is?"

"That's what we have to consult Myriam and Kes about. But I doubt our job here is done… there's so much more to do before the war can come to a close." He put his hand gently on her lap. "Much as you and I want to go home, we still have to help these people."

Janeway's brow creased. "I understand your concerns, Chakotay, but you must consider the scope of their live spans. These people see blocks of time in _hundreds of years. I'm not sure if I want to spend the next seventy years here fighting someone else's war."_

Chakotay sighed. "Well, over the past three days, I've had a lot of time to think about it. At the rate we're going, this war isn't going to last another seventy years. The Panizhe have already pushed the Maldorian forces onto their last legs; the storming of Haldon have brought them- us- one step closer to ending the war." He took her hand as she put the empty bowl down on the deck. "The resistance movement may have been around for centuries, but the true battle only begun mere decades ago. I'll give it a few years, at most."

Her gaze grew distant as she considered the verdant forest outside the ship. "Whatever our decision may be, we'll have to consult with Myriam first." She placed her feet gently on the floor and put pressure on them, seeing how well her legs stood up to it. When she deemed they were strong enough, she pushed herself to her feet, Chakotay's arm guiding her. The newly regenerated muscles felt stiff and awkward for a moment, but she let the blood rush to them, her balance more steady with every step. Chakotay supported her elbow, helping her keep balance.

A thought struck her as they headed slowly for the door. "Oh, how's B'Elanna, by the way?"

Chakotay smiled. "Never better," he said. "It seems she found her talents quite abruptly in the middle of the battle. When Myriam assessed her, she called herself a fool for not realizing what she was in the first place."

"Which is-?"

"B'Elanna's a Warrior, Kathryn," he said. "She is at her peak in battle, filled with righteous anger and a determination to win. No wonder she couldn't reach her powers the way Myriam taught her to. Warriors are in a class of their own; they do things differently from the rest of the Mage. Myriam has already handed tutorship over to Nydea. I hear she's a hideously fast learner."

A soft smile touched Janeway's lips as she thought of Torres, the fierce fighter that she was, blossoming under the tutelage of Nydea, who had built a reputation of being an unforgiving teacher. "If Seven's a Seer, B'Elanna a Warrior, and Kes a Healer, what does that make me?"

Chakotay laughed as he put one arm around her shoulder, escorting her out of the ready room. "It makes you one very special lady, Kathryn Janeway."


	14. 'she will come'

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**"she will come"**

 Jackelyn Maldor paced the smooth marble floor of her mother's receiving room. The young princess was impatient, her silk pants billowing as she made abrupt turns to pace in the opposite direction. The Empress never kept anyone of House Maldor waiting, especially not her own daughter. Why was she late?

Watching her half-sister stalk across the room, the wolfchild hid a sardonic smile. She was seated on the floor in her usual spot, at the far end of the room, behind the throne where no-one could see her. The tiger cub lay beside her, and she scratched the cub's head lazily. Behind her, Falkner and Falda stood at attention, whilst Calista stood at her customary position by the throne of Her Eminence. "If you don't stop walking around, you're going to wear a hole in the floor," she sneered at Jackelyn.

The girl turned to her with a dangerous glitter in her eyes, spitting. "Shut up, Little Jackal. Don't talk where you're not supposed to. You're overstepping your boundaries." She continued pacing.

The wolfchild gritted her fangs. She hated it when people called her Little Jackal, even more so than when people called her wolfchild. It was a taunt, layered with many meanings. It was a throwback to her roots, implying that her blood was impure, tainted with that of the wolf-kind, the stealthy jackals who hid in the darkness, the sly jackals who did things secretly and without honor. And it also implied her lowered status in the household, that she be considered Little Jackal. Less than Jackel, always inferior to her older sister. So inferior that she didn't even merit a name. Her grip tightened on the tiger cub, and it mewled in distress. Realizing what she had done, she patted the little tigress placatingly, and it settled against her lap, content.

The doors to the receiving room burst open, and the cub jumped up, hackles raised, hissing, as Empress Nayrn Maldor stormed into the room. With a single gesture of her hand she slammed the heavy ornate doors behind her. Three days had passed since the fall of Haldon, and three days the Empress' rage had simmered. It never seemed to end. It was easy to see why: She'd lost twenty garrisons of her best officers in one fell swoop, as well as a major force in her Eminent Naval Army. 

Jackelyn fell on one knee to greet her mother formally. "Your Eminence," she said. Nayrn ignored her and stormed past, springing into her throne, her robes billowing around her.

Jackelyn spun to face her mother, her icy demeanor unruffled. "Mother. You are upset."

Nayrn hissed at the girl. "That's the _stupidest remark I've heard anyone make today," she snapped. She raged silently in her chair for a moment, then she sprang out of it and continued Jackelyn's pacing. Making slashing movements in the air, she sliced out the silhouette of a starship, lean and cetacean, with a sleek elegance that caught the wolfchild's imagination. The Empress stared at the ship for a moment, then she crushed the glowing blue lines with her own power. "__Voyager…" she hissed, spitting every syllable like a curse. _

"We never envisioned that they would be so powerful," said Jackelyn slowly. "Might Myriam's Seers speak true?"

"The Emissaries? _Bah!" Nayrn let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "No, that's just myth. They were just __lucky that they fitted the bill… they're nothing more than mortals. __Insignificant." She smiled with sweet venom at her daughter. "You're not going to let a few air-puffed titles mislead and frighten you into submission, are you?"_

Jackelyn raised her chin proudly. "Of course not." The fifteen-year-old graced her mother with a sharp-fanged smile. "As a matter of fact, I have a plan for luring her over to the palace… to finish them once and for all."

Nayrn paused, the beginning of a real smile spreading across her face. "Really."

Jackelyn grinned. "Forget the loss of the army and the fleet. They are trivial in comparison to the loss in morale the Panizhe will suffer when they lose their vaunted Emissary."

Nayrn circled her daughter with a predatory smile. "Shoot away."

"While you were making battle plans, I took the liberty to ask a few of the Haldon Guard to do me a favor. As a result of that, we have in our possession several men from the Daer-on-Naiad. One, in particular, a young courier boy, is the betrothed of Myriam's youngest daughter. I heard the two of them had grown quite close. The loss of the boy must certainly hit her hard."

Nayrn's smile widened. "And Myriam is so protective of her children…"

"Precisely. As I have no doubt, she'll have stationed some spy in the bowels of the servant's area… so once the word is spread that this boy is well and alive with us, it shouldn't be too hard for her to be persuaded to send someone over to do an exchange for the child."

"And since the only person whom she trusts enough and whom we have not met is the Emissary…" said Nayrn slowly.

"… Myriam will send her into our waiting jaws. It shouldn't be too hard to finish her off while she's here with no-one to back her up. A suicide spell, perhaps?"

Nayrn let out a cry of delight and gave her daughter a hug. "Perfect, as usual, without all the expenditure needed on an all-out attack. All we need to do is to start a few rumors, let our operative work and she will come! You're so brillant."

Jackelyn flushed and curtsied slightly. "You're too kind, m'lady."

"Oh, don't get all m'lady-ish on me," complained Nayrn. She threw one arm around Jackelyn's shoulder. "This warrants a celebration." With a laugh, the two swept out of the receiving room.

As they left, the wolfchild eyed Calista in alarm. The devastating attack on Maldor had thrown the Fire sphere into temporary chaos, rendering them unable to perform but the simplest spells. It had set them all on edge. "You must warn your mother! The Emissary must not be lost."

Calista shook her head. "On the contrary, I'm not going to contact her for the next few days at all."

The wolfchild's eyes widened in alarm. "Why?"

Calista shot her an annoyed look. "Isn't it obvious? You heard what she said. The only way that she will come is if they know that Bryanna's mate is here. As long as I don't tell my mother that Perron is here, she'll never find out."


	15. walking into hell, with both eyes open

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**walking into hell, with both eyes open**

The war room was bustling with activity as Janeway and Chakotay stepped through the doors of the massive room. Around them were many unfamiliar faces, the commanders of the Panizhe troops who had come from other encampments and had spent the days before the battle secreted in the Kundzan woods. As Janeway made her way through them they smiled at her.

Myriam was at the central table, talking in low tones to Nydea and Janae. She glanced up and saw Janeway coming, and motioned them over. "You are better, I trust?" she asked as Janeway approached the table.

"Much better," affirmed Janeway. "Kes has set up temporary quarters on _Voyager to facilitate coaching of the crew," she informed Myriam._

"I know," replied the Mage, sounding halfway between amusement and annoyance. "She had to come through me, remember?" She sighed, and then looked perturbed, lost in her own worries.

Nydea picked up the thread of conversation. "As Commander Chakotay has probably already told you, we won the battle for Haldon, but it was on sheer desperation that we managed to do so. The battle could have gone either way. The point was, this battle was supposed to have been a guaranteed victory. Strategically speaking, Haldon is of no great importance to the Preeminence. It's located smack in the middle of the Great Plains, too far away from the river Hy and normal commercial routes. It might be closer to the hub of Licknok Moor than any other Ashkari encampment, but there are closer towns. So rightfully, Haldon should have been marginally guarded." Her dark brow puckered. "They knew we were coming."

Janeway shrugged. "Heavier armaments doesn't necessarily mean they were definitely expecting an attack," she reasoned. "They may have just taken precautionary steps. We are at war, after all."

Myriam shook her head. "I got word from my operative in the Eminent Palace. They shunted troops from Tiuagad- that's the nearest daer to Licknok Moor- to fortify Haldon. It wasn't precaution; it was an outright ambush. That's what worries me."

"A spy?" Chakotay asked as Janae looked down on the floor.

"Most likely." Myriam rubbed her hands over her face. "We don't know who it was, but we will have to keep closer tabs on our people from now on. Security will have to be tightened up, of course…" She sighed. "I should have known… If I could have planted a spy in House Maldor, she would have planted a spy here as well."

Then little Bryanna came up to her mother's side, tugging gently on her arm. "How about Perron?" she asked softly. 

Janeway's eyebrows lifted slightly at that. Perron had been one of the young boys she'd seen in the children's room. How could he have been a spy?

Myriam took a deep breath. "_That." She clenched her fists tightly. "We lost a number of men in this scuffle," she told Janeway mournfully. "None of them were fighting; they were all performing minor tasks such as fetching water, being couriers and on-site coordinators, but…" She lifted her shoulders in an elegant, perturbed shrug. "Many of them were captured by the Maldorian troops." She glanced down at Bryanna, her fingers gripping the child's shoulder. "One of them was Perron, Bryanna's betrothed. I'd hate to lose that child; I handpicked him to be her consort when she reached seventeen, but…" She sighed. "There is a code of honor regarding prisoners of war. They are held in captivity for the rest of their natural lives, never to be returned to their original Houses. However, they can be sold or exchanged as slaves. I want you to do just that."_

Janeway nodded, intrigued. 

"You'll be posing as a wealthy merchant whose is new to this area, who wishes to win the Empress' good graces. As a token of goodwill on both parts, you will exchange a couple of slaves: you will give her two, and you can take one back- Perron, naturally. I will procure these two slaves for you. In the meantime, I want you to keep both eyes and ears open and observe the events going on in the Palace. And while you're there, could you also look out for our operative? She hasn't contacted us for a few days; I'm beginning to get worried."

"Calista?" Janeway asked her, aware of Myriam's child-spy daughter stationed as a page in the Palace.

Myriam nodded.

"Am I to have any servants? Attendants? I _am a rich merchant, after all."_

Myriam gripped Bryanna's hand firmly, as if in reassurance. "Bryanna will follow you. She's court-trained, knows a lot about the Palace through her sister, and she will guide you through. However, attendants usually go in pairs, one male and one female. You will have to find someone else to go with you."

"I suppose it's asking too much to ask to bring Chakotay?" she began mildly. Myriam shook her head, and Janeway nodded. "I thought so."

"Attendants are usually children," Myriam told her.

"Josh then," said Janeway firmly. "Unless he's too old as well?"

"No," said Myriam. "Josh will be just fine. You may set out in two days' time."

"Captain, you can't go!" protested Torres as they walked down a corridor. "You've just recovered from a major ordeal, and you _definitely aren't in any shape to face the Empress alone!"_

Janeway raised her hand. "I appreciate your concerns, Lt., but in this case Myriam has specifically asked me to help her. I am obliged to aid her."

Torres shrugged as they rounded a corner. "Then let _me do it. Or Seven."_

"I'm afraid not. Neither of you belong to a race which the Empress has seen before; we don't want to prick her curiosity too much. Not when we are undercover."

Torres scowled. **Can't you even take one of us with you?**

Janeway sighed. "I'll be in contact with _Voyager all the time, B'Elanna." She put a reassuring hand on her engineer's arm. "Don't worry too much. Besides, Josh and Bryanna are with me."_

"A couple of kids. _Great." _

"One of whom, may I point out, is a wielder of Ocher Fire and has been training for several more years than you."

Torres laughed a little at that, the tension slowly draining out of her. "Well. I'll have to give her that, I admit." She shook her head. "I'm probably overreacting again. Nydea complains that I do that too much."

Janeway smiled. "So, how are your lessons with her, by the way? I haven't had much time for catching up on things going around on the ship."

"Oh, they're all right. A little tiring to begin with. but I'm getting used to the daily routine. I've learnt quite a bit so far, and I've done some sparring with Seven. She and Tuvok are going into that whole Vulcan-mind-technique regime." Torres rolled her eyes. "As the Doctor would say, more Vulcan mumbo-jumbo." She suddenly paused in her tracks, as if remembering something. "Oh, did you know that the Doctor finally figured out how to Cast? Yesterday Tom was making one bad joke too many during his sickbay shift, and the Doctor silenced him. _Literally. Tom, of course, was quite shocked. And the best thing is, the Doctor's considered an inanimate object with magical properties, so he can Cast without sending out overtly male alarms to the Empress."_

"That's wonderful," said Janeway, beaming. She took Torres' hand. "I'll leave the ship to you, Kes and Seven when I'm on this mission," she told her. "Shouldn't be that difficult to look after a small ship of a hundred and fifty, should it?"

"Don't bet on it. You don't know how much damage a magically talented hologram with an over-inflated ego can do."


	16. into gently smiling jaws

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**into gently smiling jaws**

Janeway, appropriately briefed and set the shuttle _Phoenix down in the courtyard of the Eminent Palace as the palace staff had directed her to. The courtyard was situated before the main aerie of the palace, a grandiose structure of opalescent material, shimmering in the slanting rays of the afternoon sun. It was a vaguely triangular structure, made of rectangular tiers stacked on top of each other. Flanking them were curving crystal spires. To Janeway, it looked like a cross between Klingon and Cardassian architecture. _

There was a young girl and boy waiting for them at when Janeway, her two attendants and the two slaves from a province further up the Hy exited from the shuttle. At first she didn't notice anything unusual about the two children. Then the boy turned slightly to usher them into the palace, and she saw them. Wings. Glinting and iridescent, like delicate butterfly's wings, yet they seemed to exemplify speed and grace even when folded. Janeway drew in a sharp breath. Myriam had told her about these people, whom were thought to be extinct. Seraphim.

The young seraph bowed as Janeway approached. "Greetings, Emissary," he said softly. "My name is Falkner, and this is my sister, Falda. We will take you to the vestibule, where you may await an audience with her Eminence."

_He knows, thought Janeway silently as the boy led her through a ten-foot high arched entrance and down tall corridors of gray marble, with his sister flanking in the rear. __Somehow, he knows I'm from Ashkar. Her gown whispered against the cool polished floor, complementing the rapid beats of her heart. __If the Empress knows, I am dead._

The boy took her into a cavernous room with a high arched roof, supported by ornate sandstone pillars. The room was illuminated by a huge curved window of glass and aluminum carved into the end opposite its entrance. Most of it was empty space, heavy and silent. Portraits of past Empresses lined the walls. A set of heavy bronze doors in left war, presumably leading to the receiving room. Janeway stood quietly in the middle of the room, with Josh and Bryanna behind her in revered silence. Falkner bowed as he took his leave, and said to Janeway in a low voice, "You shouldn't have come."

A gentle tendril brushed across her her mind. Falda. **You place yourself in great danger. **

The two children left, taking the subservient slaves with them. Janeway stood still for a moment, stunned by their revelation. They were on her side! Spies as well? 

The door to the receiving room swung open. Taking her cue from it, Janeway stepped into the receiving room. Silently, Josh and Bryanna walked in after her.

If anything, the receiving room was even larger than then vestibule. A long aisle flanked by marble buttresses led the way to the throne, which was illuminated from above by a circular opening. The throne was situated directly in the center of the main aerie, so the circular opening extended all the way up to the top of the ziggurat. A single air-strike would destroy an Empress where she sat. It was a measure of trust. Janeway figured that the palace must have been designed aeons ago. There were huge, shallow pools of clear water by the side of the aisle, fed by softly gurgling fountains. The throne itself was elevated, a smoothly organic sculpture made out of opalescent material, which seemed to glow as if producing light energy of its own.

And then there was the Empress. She was a beautiful woman: lean, sinewy and feline. She had sharp, delicate features, orange hair streaked with copper that flowed around her shoulders, fingers which sheathed claws. She was dressed in a sheer, clinging wraparound silk gown, resembling the togas worn by Romans of ages past. She smiled as Janeway went down on one knee in front of the throne, revealing long sharp canines. 

"You may rise," she said. Her voice was both husky and resonant at the same time.

Janeway glanced around the room. The Empress was served by two children as well. One of them, like her, was a feline child no older than eleven, short-cropped hair with reddish highlights, carrying a large white tiger-striped cat. The Empress' daughter, perchance? The other had to be Calista. The similarities between her and Bryanna were unmistakable. _Twins, thought Janeway, __they can't be anything else but that. _

"I am Kathryn Janeway of the corporation Starfleet," she began. "We wish to make an offering to the Eminence in return for peace and safety when trading in these sectors." She had memorized those lines. _Stick as close to the real story as possible, Myriam had said; there was no need to catch the Empress' attention by incessant lying. They had not expected __Voyager's attack; it was a good bet that they did not know about the whole Emissary business._

The Empress nodded. "Then let us begin negotiations."

Nayrn Maldor was fascinated. She'd imagined the Emissary to be some huge, terrifying woman, a giantess or ogress, perhaps, commanding a mighty army which bowed to her every whim. This, slight graceful Mage before her was definitely not what she'd expected. She was dressed in a simple emerald-green gown which clung tight to the curves of her waist and flared slightly beyond that. She had beautiful, delicate features, clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, a radiant smile. Only paying half mind to the official proceedings, she studied her. Kathryn Janeway. What a unique name. From how far away did this Starfleet hark? This woman was human, certainly, but in all her years Nayrn had never heard of anyone named Janeway before. She had to be the dregs of a society somewhere, she thought. Nayrn liked to think that she knew everything about the Preeminence.

The Emissary was offering Nayrn the two slaves she'd brought along with her in exchange for Perron. Fool. This must have been Myriam's idea. Didn't the mere act of asking about Perron blow their cover? It didn't matter. By dusk she would be dead.

It would be a pity, thought Nayrn. This exotic creature had a beauty that was all her own. Nayrn had half a mind to merely destroy her mind and keep that splendid body all to herself. She kept telling herself that girls were only good for decoration, but she was always willing to experiment with new techniques if situations were just right. But Nayrn knew that if she didn't eradicate Janeway now she'd always be a threat to her. She had made that grievous mistake once in underestimating Ashkar. Never again, she swore. Better to make a small sacrifice in lieu of having suffering greatly later.

Janeway concluded setting out her conditions in the approved manner, and Nayrn nodded as if in deference to her. Then a slow smile spread across her face. She called for the wolfchild. 

The girl approached the throne warily. Nayrn made a small gesture. "Hand her that cat."

The wolfchild clutched the tiger cub tightly to herself. "But she's mine."

"Not any longer," growled Nayrn, enjoying the look on the wolfchild's face as she squirmed. Finally she held the cub out to Janeway.

Janeway cast a glance at the wolfchild, then at Nayrn. "I don't need a pet. Let the girl keep it."

"I _want you to take it," said Nayrn with emphasis._

Reluctantly, Janeway took the cat and cradled it in her arms. The cat mewled in distress as it was separated from its owner. Janeway stroked it softly, and the cub stopped, mollified.

So gentle. Nayrn was beginning to seriously regret having to have to kill her off. She could almost imagine those same fingers on her own skin, soft and gentle. She mentally shook her head. This was no time for her to delve into childish fantasies. Focus, focus.

She rose from her throne. "Come, let me take you to see the boy you speak of," she told Janeway, crossing the space between them. She swept close to her, and their gowns rustled together with a sibilant sound. She noted with amusement how the boy attending her drew back from her presence warily. She slipped a hand around Janeway's waist, and the woman stiffened for a moment. **Relax, she told Janeway, drawing her closer in. ****I'm not going to hurt you. _Not yet, anyway… __Silly girl. The more you hate me, the more you expose yourself. "The prisoners of war are kept in the holding cells, which is in another aerie altogether. We'll walk there." She escorted Janeway out of her receiving room, and the four attendants followed._**

."


	17. falling into nothingness, with both eyes...

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**falling into nothingness, with both eyes shut**

By the time Nayrn had reached the holding cells she was thoroughly sorry that Janeway and herself were on opposite sides of the war. With simple suggestion spells she'd managed to get the woman to relax fully against herself, soft and yielding. Because of her small size, she was in the perfect position to rest her head on Nayrn's shoulder, and Nayrn kept prodding her to she if she would do so. If only there was some way Nayrn could have spared her life. If she hadn't wiped out half of her available fleet she most certainly would have. But it was too late now. Unbeknownst to her, the seeds of destruction had already been sown in her mind. It wouldn't take much to trigger it off. 

The holding cells were situated in the depths of the residential aerie, and she led Janeway downwards, away from the natural light of day. It was chillier down below, a carefully maintained environment to maintain maximum discomfort. Nayrn was pleased to see that even the wolfchild was shivering slightly, more from trepidation than cold. The corridors grew dark and dank, made of cold gray stone, lit at regular intervals by torchglobes. The burning balls of cold blue fire brought no heat to the area, only glacial light. Janeway, perhaps in response to the cold or discomfort, finally pillowed her head on Nayrn's shoulder. Nayrn smiled tightly. The closer, the better for her to Cast her influence.

Finally they arrived at the holding cells where the prisoners of war were incarcerated. It was literally a dark cavern, with multiple stories, each of them lined with rows of cells, protected by a glowing blue forcefield. The small entourage stood on a ledge overlooking the whole area, like some twisted overhanging promenade. The lighting was dim, and the sculpted rocks always gave the impression that they hid something amongst their dark crevices. Nayrn liked it that way.

Jackelyn was coming up the set of steps from the upper platform down to the lowest tier of cells, and paused when she saw them.

 A pleased smile twisted Nayrn's features. She knew that the girl frequented the area to… make use of the prisoners. She wasn't seventeen yet, but there were spells to get around the metaphysical aspects of joining. Nayrn had used them the first time she'd joined, when she was thirteen. The girl was slightly flushed, but otherwise looked presentable. Her diaphanous dress clung slightly to her damp skin as she bowed to them. "Greetings," she said softly.

Nayrn gestured grandly to the girl. "This is my youngest daughter, Princess Jackelyn Maldor. Jackelyn, this is Kathryn Janeway of Starfleet."

"My pleasure," said Jackelyn, playing the part of polite princess-in-training perfectly.

"Jackelyn, while I'm engaged with Kathryn, I want you to man the throne room," she told her daughter. "Entertain visitors, if there are any."

"Yes, m'lady," said Jackelyn, and she sauntered away, presumably to change. As she swept past Nayrn she let a tendril of excitement brush her mother's mind. **So it worked, didn't it?**

**Yes, it did. You are marvelous, little one.**

Janeway gazed after Jackelyn's retreating back for a moment, then turned back to her. "I want to see the boy," she said.

Nayrn smiled. She had no intention of giving up the boy, of course. She'd come up with some excuse to prevent her ever getting her hands on the boy. He was a useful manipulating tool; she was going to hold on to him as long as she could. "Stay here and wait. I'll fetch him." Then she started down the steps, leaving Janeway with her attendants.

Janeway stood watching the Empress gracefully make her way down to the lowest level. She didn't know why, but she was glad for this distance between them. Physical contact with the woman had left her feeling cold and tired as if energy was somehow being sucked from her. Perhaps this was what Myriam meant when she told her that Maldor Casted with Ice.

With a sudden movement, the tiger-striped child had leaped in front of her, fangs bared. "Give it back, human woman," she snarled.

Janeway glanced at her, then realized what she was talking about. "The Empress gave me the cat. I can't just give it back. She would take offense."

"I don't care what she thinks. I want that cat back."

Janeway looked at the white cub snuggled in her arms, then back at the young girl. "I'm afraid I can't return it to you."

"Let her have it, wolfchild," said Calista in a placating fashion. "She'll be much happier in the Daer-on-Naiad anyway."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "Then who's going to teach her to Cast?"

"My mother, of course," said Calista in exasperation. "Unlike the Empress she doesn't discriminate against non-sentient Mage."

_Non-sentient Mage. Janeway gave the sleeping cub another once-over. "You mean this tiger is Mage?"_

"The strongest in the litter," said the wolfchild. "She was supposed to be _my friend."_

"I'm sorry," said Janeway contritely. "I'll take good care of her. Maybe you can find new friends."

The girl snorted. "I don't make many, human woman. None of them will associate with me."

Janeway tilted her head. "Why not?"

"Can't you see I'm a pariah here? Nobody talks to me, much less tries to be my friend. I don't even have a name. They-" she gestured to the cub and Calista- "are about all the friends I have in the world. I don't have a father, and I don't have a mother either."

"An orphan?" Janeway asked her.

"No. I was taken away from my father, and my mother abandoned me."

"The Empress is her mother," said Calista softly. "But she doesn't acknowledge her at all, because she's part wolf-kind, and she Casts with fire."

"She thinks it's _shameful to be a half-breed," said the wolfchild snarled softly, her eyes narrowed. "She wants nothing to do with me."_

Janeway tilted her head slightly. The bitter tone of the girl reminded her of a certain young, angry half-Klingon she'd known a few years back. Were things the same all over the world? Embittered little girls ostracized by their mixed heritage? "_Shameful?  She was the one who went to bed with someone from another species in the first place! There's nothing wrong in being of mixed descent." _

The wolfchild thought it over. "You're right," she said finally. "But even so, it makes no difference to my life." She shrugged, and in her face Janeway could see that she had already resigned herself to the dregs of society. She wished she could say something consoling to the child, but there seemed to be a weight on her heart and she couldn't think of something appropriate to say.

Calista grabbed her arm urgently to catch her straying attention. "You shouldn't be here," she told Janeway. "I haven't contacted my mom in days; how did you know about Perron?"

"I didn't know about him until your mother told me. She must have figured it out herself," Janeway told her. "Your mother's been worried sick about you. Why didn't you contact us?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know if I could filter out all my thoughts in the bewitched corridor, so I thought it safest to keep you all in the dark until the danger was over." She frowned. "I was about to send a message by mail to ask if I could try any other means of communication. You weren't supposed to find out about Perron, you see."

"Why can't I find out about Perron?"

"It's a trap they've set for you," whispered Calista urgently. "I don't know what they will do…" She threw a glance over her shoulder to make sure the Empress wasn't there, then said, "Listen. Do you have a communications device of any sort?"

Janeway retrieved her commbadge. Calista took it and gave it to Bryanna. "If she starts acting _weird, you have to get her back to __Voyager as fast as possible."_

"You mean, like she's been spelled?" Bryanna clutched the commbadge tight. "I'd better keep it somewhere safe then."

"Give it to me," said Josh. "I'll keep it."

Bryanna refused to relinquish the badge. "Boys know _nothing about magic," she scoffed. "You wouldn't know when a person gets spelled."_

"You're right, I wouldn't, but I _do know that if you drop that badge we're all done for. Give it to me." So saying, he pried the badge from Bryanna's hand._

"Heyyyyy!" Bryanna protested, trying to snatch it back. Josh held it high out of reach. "Kathy-"

"Shh. Stop bickering." Janeway held one hand up. "What are they going to do to me?" she asked Calista. But before the girl could answer, the Empress came dashing up the stairs.

"Something terrible had happened," she said, her face flushed and sweaty. "The boy was killed in an altercation last night." Her eyes grew moist and round. "I'm so, so sorry… Was he your son?"

"What? He was my consort," whispered Bryanna softly, eyes disbelieving.  "He got taken away."

"Oh!" The Empress bent down to touch Bryanna's cheek. "You poor, poor child. I lost my consort too, when I was young. But you can have another."

A tear spilled down Bryanna's cheek. "But he was my _friend."_

The Empress gave Bryanna a hug. "I'm so sorry." Then she stood up, and gave Janeway a hug. "It's such a pity. He died so young."

Calista glanced at Janeway with glazed, disbelieving eyes. **She never meant to give him to you. She's killed him already.**

 Guilt threatened to eat its way through Janeway. The boy had died because she was stupid enough not to figure out that this whole thing had been a trap. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She saw it now; it was all so obvious. _I shouldn't have come. As a result of my stupidity, Perron has died, and the wolfchild has lost a valuable friend. Bryanna will never have a consort, and the tiger cub will grow up sad and lonely-_

She hadn't realized the Empress was asking her a question. Replacements? She didn't feel like doing any diplomacy anymore. The world felt like a dead weight around her, and all she wanted to do was to crawl into bed and sleep it all away. She stammered some lame excuse. "I'll retire to my ship to think about it," she said. "May I contact you tomorrow?"

The Empress nodded sadly. "By all means." She gave Janeway another hug. "I'm sorry."

The hug somehow made Janeway feel worse. She didn't know how or why, but in a few minutes she'd gone from being clear-headed and in control to lost and dejected as the world crashed around her. She wanted to die. Quickly she backed out of the oppressive holding rooms, wanting only the eternal comfort and privacy of her shuttle.

Nayrn watched her go, and shook her head sadly. _What a pity.  "Good night, Kathryn," she said softly._


	18. animal instinct

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**animal instinct**

Chakotay was in his quarters when his commbadge sounded. He put down the padd he was reading and answered it.

It was Josh. The boy was incoherent, babbling endlessly over the comm. The only words he could catch were "Kathryn" and "sick". He sat up, his heart sinking. _Something's happened to her, he thought in despair. "Josh, what's wrong? Is she sick?"_

The boy paused and took a deep breath. "I don't know… I think she's not well. She keeps-" Suddenly he let out a yell, and started to shout in a continuous string again. All Chakotay heard was something about throwing. Throwing up? Had she been poisoned? 

"Josh, calm down," Chakotay told they hysterical boy. "I'm on my way." Ending the communication, he leapt out of his seat and hurried down to the transporter room.

The interior of the shuttle _Phoenix was a mess. Objects were strewn all over the ground: medkits, tricorders, spare plasma relays, boots. In the pilot's seat was Janeway, glancing distrustfully out at everything around her; near the door were the two children, scrunched up against the door in fear. Janeway looked disheveled and distressed, as if she'd been through a whole bout of crying. Every muscle in her face seemed to be clenched.  "What happened?" Chakotay asked them._

Josh's eyes were wide as he glanced sidelong at Janeway. "I think the Empress put some spell or the other on her. She's acting all _weird."_

Chakotay glanced at Janeway, crouched tensely in the seat, then turned his attention back to Josh. "How weird?"

The boy shrugged. "She was okay when she came back, sort of. She was just pacing endlessly around the shuttle. Then she started crying." Josh scratched his head. "Not the normal kind of crying, you know. She just started and she wouldn't stop, and she was hiding in the corner, there." He pointed. "When I tried to get her out, she asked if I could take her to the nearest cliff, and when I said yes, she bit me."

"She bit you." Chakotay repeated in disbelief. 

Josh displayed his wrist, which still had the red-and-white imprint of her teeth. "Really, really hard," he confirmed. "Then… she started to throw things at us. So I decided she was acting way weird, and I called you. Even though Bryanna said you couldn't do anything to help."

Chakotay looked back at Janeway. "Will she still bite now?"

"I don't think so, but the tiger will."

"The tiger?" Chakotay craned his neck. "I don't see any tiger."

"It's only a cub, hiding under her chair, but it tried to bite me when I got to close just now. It looks like it has sharp teeth." Josh twisted his fingers together. "Can you help her?"

"I don't know anything about spells," said Chakotay, "but I can try." He gestured to Bryanna, frozen against the wall in fear. "Could you help me?"

"I don't know anything about spells either," whimpered the child.

Chakotay shook his head in resignation. "Then I guess I'll have to go it alone, don't I?." He moved closer cautiously. "Kathryn?" he began tentatively. "It's me, Chakotay."

A low, soft sound stopped him in his tracks. She was _growling, a deep-throated feral sound in response to sheer physical threat, her eyes narrowed, crouched in a battle-ready position. "Relax," he placated. "I'm not going to hurt you-" _

She snarled at him, teeth bared viciously. 

Chakotay took a step back, and she resumed her wary growl.

Cautiously, he made his way around the periphery of the shuttle, moving slowly so as not to alarm her, keeping his hands held out so that she could see he held no weapons. He talked softly to her as he moved, placating and soothing her. All this while her eyes never left him, watching him like a hunted animal. _She doesn't recognize me, he realized. _

As he neared her he could see the tiger cub hunched under the pilot's seat, watching his as well, fangs bared, hackles raised. Where had it come from? It must be protecting her as well. A gift from the Empress, helping Nayrn to wreak whatever havoc she was doing on Janeway? 

In any case, he had to get her out fast. Making no sudden moves, he tapped his commbadge. "Chakotay to transporter room. Prepare for site-to-site beamup to the captain's quarters on my command," he said. Then he focused his efforts back on Janeway.

He reached a hand slowly out to her. Both the cub and the woman snarled in warning.

Yet Chakotay persisted. "I'm here to help," he told Janeway. "You're not feeling well. We need to get you back to Sickbay."

Janeway ceased snarling at his soothing words, but still she stared belligerently at him, teeth bared. He inched his hand closer, and she tensed, her growl sharpening.

Just another few more inches…

The tiger cub moved so fast that he couldn't dodge in time. With a flash of fangs, the cub had snapped its jaws around Chakotay's wrist. Josh had been right- the cub _did have sharp teeth. The small canines shredded through Chakotay's flesh, and he let out a cry of pain, snapping his hand away from his assailant. Blood ran down his forearm as he clutched at his injured wrist, his jaw clenched to shut out the throbbing pain._

Janeway paused in her defensive mode, and perked slightly up. "Hurt?" she asked Chakotay softly.

Chakotay saw that she was concerned over his plight. Maybe there was some way to reach the woman locked inside after all. So he chose not to answer, instead slumping on the floor, cradling his torn wrist.

She got of the seat and crouched closer to Chakotay. "Hurt?" she asked again, and now Chakotay could hear the note of insecurity and regret in it. She reached out to touch his injured arm.

_Keep at it. She could see that he was hurt and wasn't going to harm her. He played on her maternal instincts. "Hurt," he responded. "Need help."_

She reached out to take his hand, and in that split second grabbed her with his good arm. She screamed and struggled against him even as he yelled, "Energize!"

They rematerialized in her quarters, and she sprang away from him, snarling. "Kathryn!" He said desperately. "Don't be afraid. I won't harm you. Tell me what happened."

The only reply he got was another snarl.

_Voyager was in orbit, he thought. Kes had taught him to recognize spells, and right now he needed to know what kind of spell had possessed her. Since the tiger cub wasn't around, he figured that bruises and a few more bites would be a small price to pay for finding out what had happened to her. But first, he needed reinforcements. He contacted the transporter room and told him to beam the children over as well._

Unfortunately, the cat came along with them too.

Damn. It was too late to do anything else. Swiftly he bounded to her side and grabbed her tightly with both arms before she had a chance to react. She shrieked and tried breaking free, but Chakotay was a lot stronger that she was, and he trapped her, struggling and pounding at him with her fists. 

"Relax!" he told her. "I'm trying to help you!"

He forced his way into her mind and nearly got blown away. For it was as if someone had dumped a tornado into the order of her mindscape. She was trapped somewhere in the middle of the gale, he thought, trying to break free, or trying to weather the storm until it was over. He imagined he could see her, in the full blast of the storm, from where he stood in the relatively calm periphery. 

**I'm here to help, he told her silently. ****Stop fighting me.**

**I'm not fighting you. Her voice sounded distant and tired. ****Only the body is.**

Somehow she had heard him. Chakotay finally understood. She was letting the most basic, primal parts of her mind, all reflexes and no coherent thought, preside over the body while the higher self battled this monstrous storm. She had fallen back on animal instincts.

Chakotay tried to channel all his strength into her, soothing and calming her. Her body relaxed against his as she quieted down, realizing her life was not in danger. Chakotay realized she was shaking from cold. Her skin felt like ice, brittle and frozen. Much of her metabolic energy was going onto the metaphysical plane: she needed an external source of heat soon, or she might die of hypothermia. "Bryanna," he told the child over his shoulder. "Go run some hot water into the tub."

"I'll do it," Josh offered, and he ran to the bathroom.

She was shivering with the effort of her mental battle. Chakotay felt helpless. Even in orbit there wasn't much he could do without the Empress catching wind of it, hence he was unfamiliar with the utilization of magic. All he could do was to hold her and pray that she would be alright. In the background he could hear the soft gurgling of water into the tub.

"It's ready," announced Josh as he exited from the bathroom. "Is she going to be alright?"

"I hope so." Chakotay muttered softly. She glanced up at him, puzzled by the disturbed tone in his voice. Now for the hard part. "Josh, close your eyes." He reached for the zipper of her gown.

Her reaction was instantaneous. She drew back from him, eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?" she snarled. It was the most she had said to him since he'd brought her aboard.

"A bath," he said quickly. "I'm only helping you to take a _hot bath. Now, hold still."_

She relented a little, dropping her defensive stance, standing stiffly while he undressed her, watching his every move with wary intensity.

Josh suddenly realized why Chakotay had asked him to close his eyes. He squeezed them shut as Chakotay led Janeway, naked, across the room to the bathtub. As an afterthought, he clapped his hands over Bryanna's eyes as well. The child screeched in protest. "I'm a _girl, Josh, I can look! Josh, let me see!"_

Shaking his head, Chakotay guided his captain into the tub. She immediately settled in the furthest end away from him, sinking into the steaming hot water up to her chin. Chakotay took a jar of instant bubble bath from the shelf at the side and added several drops into the water, watching as the bathwater frothed up into an opaque layer. Then he called for Josh.

"I can't go," protested the child. "She's not wearing anything."

"I put bubble bath in the water," Chakotay told him. "You won't be able to see anything."

Reluctantly, the child shuffled back into the bathroom. "What do you want me to do?"

"Keep an eye on her," Chakotay said. "I don't want her drowning on me." 

Leaving Janeway in Josh's care, he quickly headed out of the bathroom and towards the small kitchen area in her quarters. _Now, where does she keep all the herbs she uses for Kes' lessons? he wondered. He might not be able to Cast, but at least he could make a variety of healing brews he had picked up from Kes. At first, it had seemed pretty a primitive way of healing to him, but Kes explained that conventional medicine only healed injuries in the first three dimensions; healing by magic entailed something so much more complex that it was impossible to duplicate even with modern technology. Using natural resources, on the other hand, was drawing healing power by the grandmaster of quantum magic, Mother Nature herself. He found the bundle of herbs and powders and quickly replicated a bowl of hot water to begin the mixing. He added the basic ingredients for a simple brew, then a few additional ones for enhancing mental strength._

He paused at this point, gazing thoughtfully at the half-filled bowl. He'd learnt from Kes that the most potent brews used fresh human blood as a key ingredient. Other than being rich in plasma proteins and dissolved nutrients, the complexity of blood possessed very powerful healing properties in the higher dimensions- properties that would degrade with the progression of the fourth dimension: time. A packet of blood that had been frozen in stasis for five hundred years might still be viable for transfusion, but its magical properties would be long gone. The blood had to be fresh; which was why most Healers loathed using it except in the direst emergencies.

But since he was bleeding anyway…

He held his injured wrist over the bowl and twisted it abruptly both ways with a snap, splitting the fibrin crust that had begun to clot. The blood ran freely over his knuckles and dripped into the bowl as he flexed his arm to speed its flow. In this way he managed to fill the rest of the bowl. He grabbed a tablecloth and bound his wrist to avoid making a mess, mixed the brew, then brought it to her, still warm.

She accepted the bowl cautiously, and sniffed it. "It's not poisoned," he assured her.

She glanced up at him in alarm. "It's human blood."

"Mine," he confirmed. "It'll help you get better."

She pushed the bowl back towards him. "I don't want it."

Chakotay sighed. "I've already made it, so you might as well drink the brew, alright?" He crouched down so that he could see eye to eye with her. "Please don't waste the blood."

She glanced at him with uneasy eyes. "You got hurt."

"It's a small thing, and it wasn't your fault. Now please drink it."

She tentatively took a small sip of the brew, then tilted her head back, eyes closed, as the first wave of warm healing washed over her. "It's good."

"I'm glad you like it. Now, finish it."

She glanced at him with narrowed eyes, more of the woman named Kathryn Janeway coming back to her. "I'll drink it as how I like, thank you very much," she told him dryly.

He smiled, and settled on the edge of the tub to watch her drink the brew. Josh and Bryanna came to hover over his shoulder. "Is she going to be alright now?" Josh persisted.

Chakotay reached out to put a hand on her head gently, and for once she didn't react with hostility. She had leaned back against the walls of the tub, eyes shut in concentration. Chakotay could feel her presence close by, stirring beneath the cocoon of Nayrn's web. And not only that: there were others as well that he could feel: Kes, Torres, the doctor, even Chelon. Somehow she'd sent out a distress call, and they were responding. Josh had been wise to bring her back to _Voyager when he did._

After a long while, she opened her eyes again, and this time Chakotay could see the marked change in her. The storm was over; by a sheer miracle, she had survived unhurt. 

The three of them, on the other hand… his wrist was still throbbing, a bruise was forming on his cheek where she'd hit him in her struggle. Josh and Bryanna both sported various contusions caused by heavy flying objects, and the boy was going to have a bite mark for days. He was just lucky that she hadn't broken any skin. _And to think we were worried about **her being hurt.**_

She set the bowl down on the floor, and was about to rise from the tub when eyes opened wide, and she sat back down abruptly. "What are the children doing here?" she asked.

Josh turned bright pink. "I didn't see anything, I swear!" he exclaimed, stumbling backwards out of the bathroom. Chakotay looked down so that the boy couldn't see that he was trying not to laugh. Children were so amusing sometimes. Bryanna followed him out silently. 

Janeway gave Chakotay a wry smile. "Commander, would you mind?"

"Mind-? Oh." He got what she meant, and backed out of the door to grab a towel and a fresh uniform. He returned, and standing discreetly out of range of sight handed her the towel and the garments. 

She dressed and stepped out of the bathroom, uniform crisp, neat and impeccable. "You feel better, I trust?" he asked her, taking her hand gently.

She glanced down at his bandaged wrist, where blood had begun to show through the linen cloth. "Better than some, at any rate." She reached for his hand. "Here, let me help you with that."

Chakotay moved his hand away from her. "The Doctor can handle this perfectly. You should rest and conserve your energy." He put his good hand on her arm. "What happened back there?"

She gave him a wry look. "We walked into a trap. Suffice to say, I've had enough of the Empress to last me the next few months."

"What kind of trap?" asked Chakotay. "An attempt on your life?"

"More or less." She folded her arms, gazing out at the starfield, brow creased in perturbation. "I have no idea what she did to me… some form of depressant, I'd guess." She paced towards to the window. "I must say that the woman has a great deal of skill. Her influence, shall I say, was so subtle I didn't notice it until I'd reached the point where I was looking for a cliff to jump off."

The thought of his captain throwing herself off a cliff was almost too much for him to bear. "Next time, you're taking me with you on any mission like this," he insisted firmly.

"I appreciate your concerns, Chakotay, but I think I can take care of myself." She turned to give him a devilishly sparkling smile. Then her expression became somber. "The Empress is more ruthless than I expected. We clearly underestimated her." She walked over to the two children standing forlornly in one corner. "She killed an innocent child just to get to me." She knelt down before Bryanna and hugged the child tightly. "I'm sorry."

Bryanna closed her eyes and said nothing.

Janeway stood up. "You were right about one thing, Chakotay. We can't just walk away from this war. Not any longer. This time, we're going to fight to the end."

He said nothing, letting his smile be all the answer she needed. She took his hand. "Let's get this wrist of yours down to Sickbay. Then we'll have another chat with Myriam."


	19. like learning to live again

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway_

**_______****Months Later_______**

**chapter**** eighteen: like learning to live again**

The Daer-on-Naiad was steeped in quite solitude. It was the late afternoon, when the forest around them was alive with the soft cries of crickets and the rustling of the wind. Every now and then, the whistle of birds could be heard, migratory creatures passing from the northern regions over the river Hy to beyond Licknok Moor to escape the cold spell up north. From somewhere within the schoolroom, the children laughed.

In this blissful scene came the sharp metallic jarring of swords.

A curved bat'leth sliced through the air and clashed with a similar weapon, the sharp blade glinting in the sunlight. Grunting, its wielder aimed another parry at the midsection of her opponent, and was met with another quick riposte. 

Her opponent executed an agile backflip, putting some distance between them, then unleashed a wall of Fire at her. Raising her bat'leth with a cry, she deflected the pulse with her own sleight-of-hand. The backwash crashed unexpectedly onto her opponent, and she tumbled backwards. Wasting no time, she leaped at her opponent and pressed the curved inner blade of it against her throat.

Her opponent raised a silver eyebrow. "Looks like you've won- again."

B'Elanna Torres chuckled and stepped away from Seven. "No offense, but after months of sparring with Nydea, you're almost no challenge. She's a formidable fighter."

"As are you," replied Seven as she stood up, brushing the powdery dust off her brown unitard.  "Perhaps you should consider having a match with Tuvok. He is well trained in various forms of combat, and despite being unversed in magic he possesses relatively fast reflexes. He would be a worthy partner."

"Well, I keep that in mind in case I ever get bored," said a voice from beside them. The two women turned to see Janeway leaning on the trunk of a sturdy scarletwood at the edge of the clearing. Janeway smiled and held her hand out to Seven. "I haven't sparred in a while. I'm getting out of practice." In understanding, Seven tossed her the bat'leth, and she caught it by the handle. "Let's see how I fare against the great B'Elanna Torres."

Torres rolled her eyes at her captain's underhanded flattery, then swung her bat'leth at Janeway's face. Janeway barely had time to block the blow when another came. And another. Torres attacked, fast and furious, driving Janeway back towards the forest. She backed up against a tree, trapped, and all seemed lost. Torres swung her bat'leth one more time-

-and Janeway abruptly ducked, lodging Torres' bat'leth into the tree. Janeway quickly came back up, her bat'leth against the side of Torres's neck.

Torres quirked up a corner of her lip. "Ducking is considered dishonorable," she said dryly.

Janeway shrugged. "It helped."

"Honor is irrelevant," commented Seven, but the ex-Borg had the beginnings of a smile on her lips.

Torres shook her head as her captain stepped away from her. "I need more practice."

"I just got lucky," said Janeway. "You'd probably win on a rematch."

"On the battlefield, there is _no rematch," said Torres, extricating her blade from the tree. "I can't allow my opponents to get lucky."_

"Well, looks like you'd better arrange that match with Tuvok soon, then," said Janeway. "After all, Myriam says that our next battle will probably be against the capital city itself."

"The final showdown?" Torres raised one eyebrow. "But we have so many other fronts to fight on other planets. How about Danir? Without it we won't be able to control the main trade routes, and we've barely made a dent in _their defenses."_

"When the Empress falls, so will the rest of the Preeminence," said Seven firmly.

"Oh, is this some prediction you and your little friends made sitting there in your little room with all your little crystal balls?" Torres put her hands on her hips, bat'leth still held in one hand. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"We needed confirmation from Myriam," said Seven calmly, taking her bat'leth back from Janeway. "Besides, the battle is still a fair while away. We have adequate time for preparation."

Janeway nodded silently at the information. In the months since their arrival in this dimension, _Voyager had led more than a few battles, some on Algaroth, some on other planets within the Preeminence. In the time between, they had immersed themselves in the local culture and customs. It was like learning to live again: learning to live in a place which was so different from where they'd come from. Even the men had found some time to hone their skills when they were travelling the interstellar void, their active warp bubble masking their use of magic from the Empress. Starfleet technology was vastly superior to that of the Preeminence, owing mostly to the fact that they didn't have the powers of magic to back them up in the twenty-fourth century. Working together with a team of dedicated engineers, Janeway and Torres had come up with several modifications to their present technology to accommodate higher-order manipulations, and as a result they had slightly bettered their odds against the Preeminence._

Torres scowled. "If they drop an attack on us out of the blue, we'll be finished," she said, waving her bat'leth for emphasis.

"That won't happen," said Seven crisply with certainty.

"And I suppose that's another prediction you've made, _Seer?" asked Torres with a touch of sarcastic emphasis on Seven's title._

"It is a mere logical conclusion from the analysis of our tactical situation, _Warrior," Seven jibed in return, likewise putting emphasis on Torres's title. The dry humor in their words, however, couldn't be mistaken. Over the past few months of training with and against each other, the animosity between the two had more or less toned down into a fond, mutual dislike. Neither would admit it, but the Klingon and the Borg had grown fairly inseparable in their own right._

Janeway smiled at the light-hearted bickering between the two women. Fond rivalry had its history between the Seers and Warriors as well. Where the Seers meditated and predicted, taking everything into consideration, calculating every outcome and drawing on higher inspiration, Warrior were rough and impetuous, taking action in the heat of battle, unquenchable and unpredictable. Seers mocked Warriors for being overtly rash, and Warriors poked fun of Seers for being over-calculative. 

"Did you want to tell us something, captain?" Torres asked Janeway abruptly, turning back to her.

"Only that Seven is late for her lesson with Kes and Tuvok, and Myriam wants to speak to you."

Seven inclined her head. "Indeed. The time must have… slipped my mind." She closed her eyes, and with a small gesture of her hand, transported the bat'leth back into the weapons store fifty meters away, beside the war room. "With your permission, captain, I'd like to return to _Voyager."_

Janeway held out her hands. "No-one's stopping you," she said with a smile. "Besides, I'd be the last one to incur Kes' wrath."

Seven tapped her commbadge and requested for a beamup. She faded away in the column of the blue sparkle, back to _Voyager, currently in orbit around Licknok Moor._

Torres stepped up to Janeway, brows puckered in concern. "Myriam wants to see _me? Why?"_

Janeway took her arm and led her to the war room. "Not just you. All the higher-ranking Warriors. She wants to coordinate the plans for the next battle." Her voice took on her lower tone. "Only the Warriors are going to be involved in the planning for this battle," she said.

"The final showdown?" asked Torres, her steps slowing.

Janeway nodded. "At least, that's what she told me. And the rest of the daer."

Torres sucked in a deep breath. "Looks like this meeting is going to be a rather big one, then."

Chakotay was waiting for them at the doorway to the war room. "The meeting has already started," he told them. Torres nodded, palmed the bronze doors and walked in as the large structures swung open silently.

Janeway stood staring at the door for a moment after it shut. Chakotay carefully draped one hand over her shoulders, and she did not object. Over the past few months, she'd devoted the precious spare time that she'd had to coaching him on the most elementary Casting, skills so simple and which required so little manipulation of the Fire sphere that it wouldn't alert Nayrn of their whereabouts behind their shielding.  She was an adept teacher, and she'd spent an unreasonable amount of time with him when she should have been off teaching more promising students, such as Tieran, or Naomi.

He brushed her mind gently, as he had been taught to do, to avoid detection. **Don't you have lessons?**

"Oh…" She snapped her fingers in annoyance, her expression fixed into a grimace. "Damn."

He steered her sideways. "The children's room is over there," he said. "Want me to take you there?"

She punched his arm lightly, laughing. "I can find my way there, thank you very much," she said dryly. "So I got us lost in the Delta Quadrant, but my sense of direction isn't _that bad."_

He didn't reply to her jest, instead watching her retreating silhouette in silence. _You didn't get us stranded in the Delta Quadrant, precious, that was me. He shook his head and was about to beam back to __Voyager when something slammed into his back with the force of a ten-gale storm. He stumbled to his knees, and the blast of hot air on the back of his neck told him who it was._

"Tieran! That's enough. Why aren't you back on _Voyager?"_

The young tigress leaped off his back, teeth bared in a snarl. At half adult size, Tieran was five feet long and weighed a monstrous four hundred and seventy pounds. Dazzling white fur, reddish-orange stripes; and blazing jade eyes. With six more growing months to go, the feline wielder of Scarlet Fire was shaping up to be a formidable force. As Myriam herself had said, "If that cat had been human, I'd fear for my position right now." As it was, the only thing that seemed to be impeding Tieran right now was her four-footed form. She certainly possessed enough intelligence and wit to challenge any human.

**She forgot to take me, raged the tigress, pacing. ****I shall tell Tuvok.**

"Telling Tuvok won't help much," Chakotay told her. "He can't do anything to Seven. Is this the first time she's forgotten to take you back to _Voyager?"_

**He'll think she's losing focus, said Tieran. ****He'll make her meditate more, and she hates meditating. She says it's inefficient.**

"Come on," he said, standing up and aiming a playful cuff at the feline's neck. In a couple of months time he would have to stop doing that, in the interest of preserving his arm. "She didn't mean it. I'll take you back to _Voyager."_

The tigress snarled, but otherwise said nothing.

As Chakotay was about to tap his commbadge, a slight movement to his left caught his attention. "Who's there?"

"It's only me," said a small voice. It was Bryanna, hiding in the shadows of the war room. "I'm just playing with a few of my friends."

Tieran growled softly. **There are others here.**

Chakotay craned his neck to see the other children. "Who are your friends, Bryanna? Aren't they supposed to have a lesson with the Emissary now?"

Bryanna remained silent, scuffing the toe of her boot in the dirt floor of the daer, not looking up.

"You can tell me," Chakotay prodded. "I won't tell the Emissary why they skipped lessons."

Bryanna hesitated some more, then shook her head. "They don't have to go for lessons," she said softly. "They're ghosts. You can't see them, ordinary people can't, and only a few can sense them. Even less can _see them, much less play with them."_

"Ghosts?" asked Chakotay in disbelief.

"Dead people who can't or won't go back to where they came from. Many children." Bryanna spoke quietly. "Nobody knows I can do this," she said, glancing backwards. "These children… they are lost in a strange new place, away from everyone they love. They're different, they're alone. The world they live in is different. They have to learn how to live all over again. It's very sad." She shrugged. "So I play with them. It makes them feel less bad."

Such compassion. Chakotay was about to speak, but she interrupted him. "Could you please not tell my mother, or any of the other grown-ups?"

"Why not?" he asked her.

She twisted her fingers together. "I- I don't want to be left out because I can see ghosts. People think it's a bad omen, like I will do something bad because I can see them. They all think ghosts are evil."

"But they're not?"

"They were just people like you and me before they died." Bryanna's eyes grew slightly moist. "Please don't tell?"

Chakotay couldn't refuse. "Tieran and I will keep it a secret," he said. The child moved back into the darkness with a small smile as Chakotay tapped his commbadge and beamed back to _Voyager with Tieran._


	20. war, peace and unexpected traitors

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**war****, peace and unexpected traitors**

B'Elanna Torres stood by the circular table in the war room, along with about thirty other Warriors, including Nydea, their head warrior, and Janae, the young dual-talented Mage. A hushed, expectant silence fell across the table as Myriam activated the holoproj at the center of the table, projecting a spinning, coruscating city. No, not a city. It was too small to be a city- it had to be a daer. Torres studied the thickly constructed walls, defense perimeters and heavy-duty shield generators. It was well fortified, for one thing. Their shields might be even stronger than the penetrating power of _Voyager's revamped shielding. _

"That's not Licknok Moor," said Janae, her eyes narrowing. "It's Tiuagad."

"So it is," said Myriam. "We've had a change of plans. This is going to be the final target before the conquest of Licknok Moor. It is too heavily fortified for us to ignore it while we strike at the city center."

B'Elanna reached a hand out to touch the projection, as if the physical contact would help her reach that impenetrable fortress, to let her understand it. "Our weapons will have a difficult time penetrating their defenses," she said. She closed her eyes, tried to feel the currents in the Fire Sphere that might help her reach out and connect to that daer far out to the north. But all she felt were chaotic tides pulling and tugging at her mind; she could not read them, as Seven could. "There are too many uncertainties."

"You can never have too few uncertainties in battles like these," said Janae sharply to B'Elanna.

B'Elanna bared her teeth, ready to respond with an appropriate challenge, but Nydea raised her hand, calling for silence. She circled the hologram, studying it with her tactician's mind, snapping into battle-ready mode. Identifying weaknesses, visualizing threats, formulating plans. Finally she took a deep breath. "It will be a difficult battle, but I believe we can do it." There were brief titters amongst the ranks of the Warriors that quickly died down. Nydea continued speaking. "It may be well fortified, but the layout of Tiuagad is no different from that of any other daer we have requisitioned." She pointed to the four gates. "I believe that our old _modus operandi_ will suffice for these four entrances, although we should double the number of Warriors to counter the increased fortification. But these-" she made a sweeping gesture to the mounted guns in the turrets, "will pose a problem." She gazed at the ring of Warriors evenly. "What is required here is an aerial assault." She glanced directly at B'Elanna as she said it.

B'Elanna caught on to what she was saying at once. "You want _Voyager_- the ship herself- to attack the outposts."

Nydea nodded.

"But—how about the Eminent army? The Empress has only a small fleet in the planetary shipyards now, but _Voyager_  will need to hold them off for us," said Janae. "We only have one other ship in our vicinity now."

"If we make our attack swift enough, the Empress will not have enough time to muster the fleet before Tiaugad is taken. Protocol dictates that she not continue the battle after victory is declared," said Tiranna, a dusky-skinned, weatherworn fighter.

"Protocol," spat Janae disdainfully. "We all know that the Empress doesn't give a damn about protocol."

Tiranna bristled, but Myriam raised her hand. "Halt. Now." Both women backed down, and Myriam turned her glance to Janae. **You will treat your elders with the respect accorded to them,** she said to her. Janae lowered her head but otherwise said nothing.

"We can call for other Ashkari ships from the surrounding planetary systems," suggested Sylfael, one of the centauriform Warriors, her thick hair braided high upon her head. "Then _Voyager_ would be free to attack Tiuagad."

"It is hard to hide the trail of mass ship movement," said Myriam quietly.

"No, wait," B'Elanna interrupted. "We could use the _Delta Flyer _instead: she's fast and well shielded, and we can enhance her weaponry to specifically target the turret guns. That would leave _Voyager_ free to defend us from the fleet. Kes can fly _Voyager_."

"Kes is... adept at flying _Voyager _," admitted Nydea. "But who will pilot the _Delta Flyer_?"

B'Elanna glanced around the table at the gathered Warriors, mildly surprised. Wasn't it obvious? "Tom, of course." 

"A man?" asked Janae skeptically. "No offense, but he wouldn't stand a chance against the Mage operating those guns." She shook her head. "One of us should fly it instead."

"No offense, but Tom _built and designed_ this ship himself," countered B'Elanna. "_No-one_ else here is qualified enough to fly the _Delta Flyer_ better than he." 

"Harry's taught me to fly shuttles; the _Delta Flyer_ is no different," rebutted Janae. "_I _should be the one on the _Delta Flyer_."

"No can do," snapped B'Elanna. "The _Flyer_ is our ship, and Tom Paris will fly it, or no-one." 

Janae appealed to Myriam. "Coordinator?"

Myriam sighed. "Normally, I would think that the idea of a man leading a crucial phase of a battle laughable. The fact stands that they can't be trained in our arts while the Preeminence is incumbent. However," she sighed, "these are not normal times. I'm afraid that B'Elanna may be right. Tom Paris served us well during the Battle of Haldon. His piloting skills are admirable, and he's a quick study." She turned to face B'Elanna. "Alright, then. Kes will pilot _Voyager_, and Tom Paris can take the _Delta Flyer_. But I want you in the cockpit with him, B'Elanna."

Janae made as if to protest, but Myriam silenced her with a look. Janae gritted her teeth and stepped away from the table. "I concur," she said quietly.

Nydea nodded. "Now, then. We must refine our plans for the attack." 

Murmurs of agreement rose from the assembled throng of Warriors. They drew around the table, beginning to make plans.

Hours passed before the meeting was concluded. The sun was sinking dusky red in the sky, and the sparrow magpies were warbling in the scarletwoods ringing the main clearing. Mage boys played rounderballs in the reddish sunlight, kicking up swirls of brick-colored dust.

The Warriors silently filed out of the great war room, heading back to their abodes to contemplate the battle plans they had made that day. B'Elanna was one of the last to leave; as she crossed the threshold of the room, Myriam called to her. She paused at the doorway, wondering what it was that Myriam wanted from her.

The elder Mage smiled at B'Elanna as she came closer. "You performed very well at the gathering today," she told her. B'Elanna merely nodded at the flattery. Myriam walked contemplatively around the table, rubbing her jaw with one hand. "Nydea is not growing any younger; she's nearly twice my age. She wants to retire once this war is over. And she's looking for a successor." She stopped pacing and turned to face B'Elanna across the table's width.

It took a little while for the intention of her words to sink in. B'Elanna blinked. "Me?" She gave Myriam an incredulous look, thousands of reasons against the mere idea instantly popping into her mind. "You're not serious. I mean, I don't even know if _Voyager_ will be remaining in this universe after the war is over. That decision isn't for me to make. Besides, there are so many other candidates better qualified than I am!"

Myriam raised an eyebrow. "Like whom, for example?"

B'Elanna's mind scrambled for a suitable candidate. "Janae."

Myriam paused in her tracks, and remained still for an unnaturally long time before she replied. "Janae is... ambitious," she conceded. She paused again, as if considering saying something, before dismissing it and continuing on another unrelated thread. "You are one of the best Warriors that we've had in a long time, B'Elanna, there's no denying it. If Nydea thinks that you are worthy enough to be her successor, it's good enough for me. You possess courage, honor, quick wits—all invaluable skills for a Warrior, but even better ones for a leader. Trust me on this, B'Elanna; should it ever come to pass, you shall make a great Head Warrior."

B'Elanna chuckled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." Then she paused and sobered. **You had something to say about Janae.**

Myriam twisted her fingers together, seemingly unusually nervous. "There... is another reason I wanted to talk to you." She made her way around the table, back to B'Elanna's side. She lowered her voice. "I want you to keep an eye on Janae."

B'Elanna glanced keenly at her. "What's wrong with Janae?"

Myriam looked downwards, then back up again. "As I said, Janae is ambitious. Yet I'm afraid that she will never rise to one of the top positions within House Ashkar." She gazed intensely at B'Elanna. "Very few people know that Janae's natural Casting ability is Emerald Wind."

"Wind?" B'Elanna's brows drew together in surprise. "I'd never have guessed it, with the way she wields Fire..."

"It is a rare gift... or curse, depending on how you choose to look at it," said Myriam. "Some of us are born with this ability to manipulate similarly-ranked combinations of power in any Sphere. But their skills can only be limited; they cannot specialize their powers; and like their talents, they tend to drift through niches in society and life. Most of the cases are those who wield low power combinations, such as Cerulean Fire. Janae is the first in Mage history to have the ability for the strongest combination." She sighed. "Janae can Cast with Ice as well as she can Cast with Fire. But her strength is still greatest in her native sphere, Wind."

B'Elanna paused to consider this. "She wields Purple Ice as easily as Scarlet Fire..." 

Myriam nodded. "It is a stigmata... one which she hasn't learnt to live with yet. She still dreams of glory and power, without realizing that she probably has already risen as high as she will ever go in her life." Myriam put her hand on B'Elanna's. "She is in a dangerous position. You should watch her carefully. Janae can be extremely cold and ruthless at times."

B'Elanna set her jaw resolutely. "I will."

She turned to leave, leaving Myriam alone in the war room. The great bronze doors had been left slightly ajar; she pushed them fully open with a gentle touch of her hand. The swinging doors nearly crushed the small figure crouched near the entrance- Bryanna.

The small child leaped up to avoid the swinging doors. "Is my mother _done_?" she asked B'Elanna in a childishly sullen tone. "I've been waiting _ages_."

B'Elanna felt a smile coming on. "Alright, I won't hog your mother anymore," she told the girl.

Bryanna turned to enter the war room, then paused. "I hope the war turns out okay," she said, before pushing the doors open and going in to find her mother.

B'Elanna watched the doors close. "So do we all," she said softly.


	21. when push comes to shove

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**when**** push comes to shove**

"Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouc—OW!!"

"If you would just sit still and let me treat the burn, the procedure might be less painful! Now, don't move your arm!" 

Kes couldn't hide a smile as she entered _Voyager_'s Sickbay. Josh was perched on the edge of a biobed, squirming furiously as the Doctor tried to treat a plasma burn on his arm. "I'm fine now! I can get this treated back planetside!" protested the boy.

"Kes is busy enough as she is—ah, here comes the proverbial devil." The Doctor paused to smile at the Ocampan as she stopped beside the biobed, yet his grip on the fidgeting child never wavered. 

Josh turned to Kes with a pathetic expression. "Please tell him that you can fix this too?" he implored Kes.

Kes smiled gently at the child. "The Doctor taught me almost all there was to know about Federation medicine," she said. "You should let him treat you." 

Josh made a face, but allowed the Doctor to continue treating him without further protest.

As he ran a dermal regenerator over the burn, the Doctor asked Kes, "So, you had something to tell me?" He put down the regenerator and summoned a medical tricorder from across Sickbay. The object whizzed past Kes with a few millimeters to spare.

"Actually, no." Kes glanced furtively around Sickbay for a moment, then continued. "I wanted to ask your advice."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows briefly, as if pleased that Kes had acknowledged his supposed superiority in various affairs. "What about?" He gave her a glance from under furrowed brows. "You're not pregnant, are you?"  At the look Kes gave him, he rolled his eyes. "It was a _joke_."

Kes shook her head. "A rather tasteless one, I'm afraid."

The Doctor snapped the tricorder shut. "There, all done now. You may go."

"Thanks," said Josh grudgingly, but not without a touch of relief. "I'll see you planetside, Healer," he said to Kes as he walked past.

Kes waited till the Sickbay doors had slid shut before turning to address the Doctor. "I have some bad news."

The Doctor frowned. "I thought you wanted advice."

"Yes." Kes sighed patiently. "I need to break this news to the captain. It's been a while since I've been on _Voyager_, and I was hoping that you might be able to suggest a way to break it to her gently. You know her better than I do."

The Doctor made a deferential gesture, then: "What kind of bad news?"

Kes took in a deep breath. "Myriam has been studying the space-time structure of the anomaly which supposedly transported _Voyager_ to this plane of existence. The fabric of space-time is changing, Doctor. As we grow further from the point of its origin, speaking in terms of multiple dimensions, reopening the portal to send _Voyager_ back would start to cause dangerous instabilities in the fabric of space-time. The damage caused to the higher dimensions may be irreparable."

The Doctor paused to consider the implications. "Which means that your- our- magical abilities will be affected." He strode around Sickbay purposefully, thinking. "To send _Voyager_  back to its original plane of existence would entail interfering with the lifestyles of millions..." he turned back to face Kes. "I can see why she would have a problem with that."

Kes nodded. "Especially since she is so determined to get this crew back home." She paused, then added. "But there is one other way."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Myriam calculates that if _Voyager_ leaves within the next two days, the damage done to the space time fabric will be negligible enough for the continued manipulation of the higher dimensions."

"Leave? Now? At this critical moment in the war?" The Doctor waved his hand and started pacing again. "These people- _your _people- are depending on _Voyager_ 's participation in the final battle to win this war! If we pull out now, who knows what will happen! Captain Janeway will _never_ agree to that!"

"I know... between one hard choice and another." Kes sighed.

The Doctor faced Kes squarely. "But when push comes to shove, she'll choose the welfare of the many over that of her crew. We have no right to make your people suffer; and we have already pledged to stay and fight this war."

Kes sighed in resignation and nodded. "It is as I feared, then. Which brings me back to the point: how best shall I break the news to her?"

The Doctor frowned deeply as he considered the question. "There is never any _good_ way to break bad news; but as for the best way… Captain Janeway has never been one to mince words. The best approach would be to tell her the facts straight." 

Kes took a deep breath, looking hesitant. She looked down at the floor for a brief moment, and when she looked back up her eyes were shining with anguish. "I can't tell her, Doctor, I don't have the courage to do it." She twisted her fingers together tightly, as if the momentary pain it caused could ease the suffering that the captain would have to go through. "She doesn't deserve it."

The Doctor took her gently by the elbow. "I'm sure she doesn't. But since when did life care about what we deserve and what we don't? Captain Janeway has faced setbacks before. She's extremely hardy, she'll live through this."

"By living on false hopes that _Voyager_ might one day succeed in returning to her universe? I can't have that. I must make it clear that she if doesn't leave now, she doesn't leave at all."

The Doctor stared at her, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Then he said, "No matter what the consequences, there can be none worse than that if Captain Janeway is kept in the dark. This crew might not deserve its fate, but they at least deserve to know it."

Kes met his eyes. "Yes. They do, don't they?"


	22. when the skies turn black, the ants take...

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**when the skies turn black, the ants take cover**

It was unusually silent in Licknok Moor.

Nayrn Maldor studied the light reflecting off the surface of her nails. In the silence she could hear the soft sound of her own heart beating in her chest, of the slow drip-drip-drip of water upon rock in some distant part of the palace, of the steady ticking of the elaborate timepiece set in the arch above the imperial throne. In the silence she could feel the stirrings of the Spheres with acute sensitivity; every motion apparent, every little prick felt. In the silence she could hear the thoughts of others.

She liked the silence immensely.

She also liked staring at her nails. They were smooth and polished, long and sharp, strong and hard. She spent an inordinate amount of time on them, polishing and sharpening them. They were weapons, tools she controlled to her every whim, which she perfected to her own whims. Like the Preeminence. Like her empire.

Although her expression remained implacable, she was smiling inside. No, not merely smiling. _Laughing._ Her mirth was understandable, and a whole host of empresses past laughed with her. Did that rag-tag group of rebels really think that taking down a bastion of the Preeminence would be so easy? Invading minor cities on the outskirts of this planet was one thing, but taking control of a major embattlement? They were counting on _the element of surprise _to take control of Tiuagad. A pitiful sentiment. She was the Empress, she was the beginning and the end of all; she didn't just lead the Eminence, she _was_ the Eminence, its flesh and bones and eyes and ears. Nothing escaped her! Her eyes were everywhere! She would pour her forces into Tiuagad, and smash the rebellion into oblivion! She would push them back, retake the cites that they had taken, restore order to _her_ universe, send those weakling excuses for Emissaries back to the miserable holes they crawled from, wipe them all out from Haldon and Nurea and Nanamon and—

Her self-composure shattered as the compressed ball of anger within her expanded and erupted into a full-blown windstorm. She sprang out of her throne and slashed at the tapestries hanging close by the elaborate overhead arch. Her howl of rage echoed along the empty corridors of the palace, reflecting and reflecting upon itself until the structure of the building trembled. A wild gale ripped through the palace room, tearing chunks of marble out of pillars, shattering glass and crystal, whipping her anger into frenzy.

How dare they? How dare they? They were low, despicable! _She_ was the empress; it was her birthright, her destiny! Dare they presume the throne? Dare they assume that these intruders from an alien world could help them win this lost cause of a war? Self-righteous anger raged through her. This was _her_ domain! She flexed her right hand firmly, and the sleek gold circlet around her wrist obligingly curved and shaped itself around her wrist. The so-called Emissaries stood no chance against her. Whoever had interpreted the Auguries in their way was a sad misguided fool. The Emissaries did not exist. She would crush these intruders!

That thought gave her pause. The whirlwind died down; the shredded tapestries stopped flapping miserably in the wind. In her chest, she felt that small lump of uncertainty swell and fill her insides with a strange burning sensation. Time and again she had tried to do just that: destroy the vaunted Emissaries of these upstart rebels, to deal a severe blow to their morale. But... somehow, by skill or sheer luck, these Emissaries had eluded her. How could a mere hundred and fifty people be so hard to eliminate?

Might there be some truth in the Auguries?

Nayrn pushed that thought aside. If the readings of the Auguries were true, the consequences would be unthinkable. She refused to think of her defeat by these... Ashkari; thousands of years of Maldorian rule toppled in mere months. That was a laughably remote possibility.

But it was still a possibility. It shouldn't have been.

She frowned deeply and thought of her late adoptive mother. The previous empress had been no maternal figure: she was harshly cruel, strict and totalitarian. Nayrn had spent her young life in terror of her mother, and she had no great love for the woman; as a matter of fact, she had been relieved when the hag finally succumbed to the degenerative disease that had plagued her for so long. But she respected her for her wisdom and her decisiveness when dealing with others. She learnt much from her mother's two thousand years of experience as the Eminent. And on the day her mother had died, the Ring had passed to her. The Ring of Eminence, the indestructible artifact of the Eminent herself, had accepted her as the next Empress. No, not accepted. _Chosen._ Chosen her above her inferior siblings. She returned her attention to the elaborate circlet on her wrist. One slender tendril of its complex interlacing tapestry snaked up the back of her hand and culminated in the slender ring around her index finger; a gold band inlaid with a glittering band of prismatic colors: gems representing the seven Spheres of Power. It seemed that the circlet grew more complex with each year that passed. She flexed her hand again, and felt the circlet respond to the movement. It felt good. It was a sign, a portent of the fates. This was concrete proof that she was _meant_ to be Empress, more so than the shots in the dark that were the Ashkari interpretations of the Auguries. She had been chosen.

The burning feeling was gone now, replaced by a cold, hard ball of resolve. She stalked back to her throne and reclined upon it. With a brief movement she cleared the hall of the debris littering it, vanishing it to the palace dumpyards. Silence reigned again.

After a brief pause she called for Kraala, her first lieutenant. She was a tall, well built woman with tawny skin and thick, wavy hair. Kraala, efficient as always and forever in readiness to receive orders, sprinted into the throne room mere moments after she had been summoned. She fell on bended knee before Nayrn, placing her short sword in front of her. "Command me, your Eminence!" 

Nayrn smiled fiercely, showing sharp pointed teeth. "I want you to shunt our forces to create additional troops for Tiuagad." 


	23. the watchers, the movers, the shakers

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**the**** watchers, the movers, the shakers**

The wolfchild held the clear orb in her hand; pictures swam within it. Seated cross-legged on the cold marble floor opposite her friend, Calista watched as the Empress gave instructions to Kraala to direct troop movements towards Tiuagad in such a manner that her mother wouldn't know about it. The pair were cloistered in a disused storage room in the deep parts of the Palace, frequented by few save the cleaning servants. Falkner and Falda were standing guard outside the arched entrance, making sure no-one came their way. The seraphim twins had gone through their first growth spurt during the past few months, and now stood considerably taller, and with wingspans approaching five feet. With their fierce countenances and superior strength, they terrified the wits out of most of the Palace servants.

The wolfchild rotated the orb carefully, giving Calista another vantage of the conversation taking place. The voices of the Empress and Kraala, reproduced crystal clear by the object, echoed softly in the confines of the room. The wolfchild smiled, saying, "I told you it would work."

Calista smiled back. "And _she_ doesn't know about it?"

The wolfchild bared her teeth at the challenge. "_No._"

Calista laughed softly. "Just checking." She turned her attention back to the orb. The Empress finished speaking to Kraala and dismissed her, then leaned back in her throne. "Where's the little wench today?"

The wolfchild shrugged. "Does it look like I care?"

"You should. For one thing, she isn't afraid of Falkner and Falda."

The wolfchild snarled. "No, but she's afraid of me." In the past few months, the wolfchild, too, had grown, and her hybrid heritage had given her sturdier musculature than her slender feline sister. And Jackelyn was only a wielder of Cerulean Ice, no match for the wolfchild's Scarlet Fire. When enraged, she was, if anything, even more terrifying than Falkner and Falda combined.

Calista nodded in deferment. "We should inform my mother of this as soon as possible."

Another smile broke out across the wolfchild's face. "This thing can do more tricks," she said, eager to show off the capabilities of her invention. "Instant replay." She focused her powers on the orb and moved the images backwards. "It has data storage properties as well."

Calista raised an eyebrow. "That's really interesting. If I looked at the orb when I stand in the bewitched corridor, do you think my mother will be able to see these images for herself?"

The wolfchild shrugged. "Only one way to find out," she said.

Myriam was in her room when she felt that same familiar prickling at the back of her subconsciousness: her daughter trying to contact her. She put down the scrolls she was reading on the cane table by the side of the room and went to the bed in the middle. She sat cross-legged upon it and gathered her energies, then plunged her awareness into the Fire Sphere. Almost immediately she caught the current her daughter was traversing, and their thoughts were linked as one.

Abruptly Myriam was standing in the middle of a tall arched corridor with pillars of gray marble, suffused with a dim, solemn light. She knew that this corridor was deep below ground, an abandoned walkway which used to connect the guest rooms in aeons past. When Calista had gone to Licknok Moor she had shown her how to bewitch the corridor to act as a transmitter for her thoughts: and how best to avoid detection by the Empress. So far, so good. She was seeing everything from her daughter's perspective: Calista turned slowly, and the wolfchild came into her field of vision. Myriam had gotten to know the wolfchild well in the years that Calista had been in the Palace, and she had sworn that the child would be taken into her clan when the war had been won. Despite being descended from Nayrn, the girl was fiercely loyal and honorable, and a valuable ally.

The wolfchild was holding a clear glass orb in her hands. As Myriam watched, an image coalesced in the midst of the orb: Nayrn in her throne room, shredding tapestries in an uncontrollable rage. Ingenious device. She smiled inwardly as the Empress paced, flexing her right hand. So she was worried? She had every reason to be. Myriam continued watching as Nayrn calmed down and called for her lieutenant, and planned the fortification of Licknor Moor. Even as she smiled, another part of her turned cold. So it was as she suspected... a spy in her close circle of confidantes. She had played it right, then—she had the Empress exactly where she wanted her to be.

**She doesn't know still—that I'm spying on her and everything. Which means the spy in the Daer-On-Naiad still doesn't know about me,** she said.

Myriam sighed. **I'm afraid I know who the traitor is.**

**Who?**

**Do not trouble yourself with these facts; all will come clear in time. **Myriam comforted her daughter. **Rest assured that you will come to no harm. **

There was silence from her daughter, then, **What**** will you do now?**

**What we had originally intended. Attack Licknock Moor.**


	24. what things seem to be

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**what**** things seem to be**

Engineering was silent save for the low thrumming emanating from the warp core. Chakotay watched the swirling of the suffuse patterns of light within the great machine. The core's glow seemed more ...red today, somehow. His gaze then fell on the elaborate mechanical construct B'Elanna had attached to it: a sleek silver machine with a fiery glowing heart, ringing the base of the warp core within the banister boundaries. He felt a small smile beginning to crease his face. It had taken B'Elanna and her engineers the better part of a month, but they'd finally managed to complete the enhancer for the warp core, which would synchronize it with the energies from Fire Sphere, so that they could have finer control over the matter/antimatter ratio and core perfomance- a first, for Ashkari ships. Both Myriam and the captain had been rather pleased. The captain, in particular, seemed to take a great deal of pride in B'Elanna's progress. The half-Klingon engineer just seemed to flourish in this new environment.

In fact, it wasn't just B'Elanna who was beginning to enjoy the stay in this strange universe; the rest of the crew also seemed to be benefiting from the experience. Despite the fact that they were waging a major war against an oppressive force, the place seemed to have a strange... liveliness to it that refreshed them. Crew morale was higher than it had been for a long time. Chakotay himself had felt the change in spirit ever since they'd arrived here, although he didn't quite know why. Perhaps it was the friendliness and warmth of the people they had met here, or the knowledge that they were helping a society free itself from the shackles of oppression. Or a mixture of both.

It could also quite possibly be just... magic.

Bryanna watched him from across the large central chamber. "You're smiling. Why?" 

He looked up at the child. She was perched on the edge of the banisters, studying the new attachment to the warp core. Of late, Bryanna seemed to have taken on a great interest about _Voyager_ and her crew. The child had always seemed rather aloof from the rest of the children of her age in the Daer-on-Naiad; Chakotay had taken a fondness to this sweet, soft-spoken child, and often let her come aboard _Voyager_ to have a look at the ship's technology. Chakotay let his smile crease his face further. "It's a secret."

The child gazed frankly at him, her blue-eyed stare seeming to bore into his mind. "You can tell me. I keep secrets well." Her tone took a darker shade; Chakotay knew why: she had to be thinking of the secrets she was keeping for the dead children she often played with. Inwardly he sighed: her gift of being able to see the dead was more like a curse, cutting her off from the rest of the living world and plunging her into a darker one. He decided to grant her request.

"I'm just thinking of how much happier my friends and I seem to have become since we've come here," he said. "It's almost like some kind of magical power that's lifting everyone's spirits."

"But that's good, isn't it?" asked Bryanna. "If everyone seems happier."

"Not necessarily," said Chakotay dryly, recalling the time the entire crew had been bewitched into a state of false bliss by an alien organism so that they could become its next meal. "Sometimes what things _seem _to be isn't a reflection of what they really _are_." Bryanna looked silently down at the floor, and Chakotay continued, "Like you, for example."

The child's head whipped back up. "Me? How?"

"On the surface, you seem to be strange, but after getting to know you better people start to realize how special you really are." He smiled at the girl.

"When people say you're special, it's just really a nice way of saying you're strange," said Bryanna darkly, scuffing the toe of her boot against the banister railing.

"Then I guess we're all strange in our own ways," said Chakotay.

Bryanna was silent for a while longer, then she said softly, "_Calista_ is special."

Chakotay paused, remembering abruptly that Bryanna's twin sister was the operative Myriam had planted in Licknok Moor. A brilliant- and risky- move: the Empress would have little reason to suspect that a mere child would be an Ashkari spy, but the entire operation hung upon a thread. One slip, and the whole thing could be exposed, with fatal consequences. "You're worried about her."

A dark emotion flashed across Bryanna's face for a brief moment. "She's my sister! I won't allow anyone to hurt her. She's safe. I know she is."

Chakotay said nothing, wondering if he should tell her about the suspected spy in Myriam's inner circle. Perhaps she already knew. Perhaps that was why she was being so moody: she was afraid for her sister. Afraid that their spy would spill the beans. He walked towards her and put his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sure she'll be alright," he said, trying his best to comfort the child.

Bryanna shrugged his arm off her shoulders and stood up. "She is," she said stubbornly, and walked out of Engineering, her boots making louder noises on the carpet than they should have been.

Chakotay sighed as the doors slid shut after the girl's departure. Despite the general good cheer, he wished that times were better.


	25. observations of rituals

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**observations**** of rituals**

Later that day Chakotay headed to the Mess Hall for dinner. The mess hall was unusually quiet; most of the women on board had gone down planetside to prepare for the upcoming battle, leaving _Voyager_ in the hands of the male portion of the crew. The ship glided in space, flying in tandem with the planet slowly spinning below. The dim reddish glow of Myriam's protective cloak could be seen faintly from this side of the shields; the Eminent ships in orbit had no idea that they were there. They continually swept the area, alright, but so far nothing could get past the cloak emitters Myriam had structured with help from _Voyager_ 's team of engineers. The Federation ship could pass meters from their position and they would be none the wiser.

Paris and Kim were seated at one table, eating; Chakotay joined them. Neelix came over. "What'll it be today, Commander? I have some excellent local fowl served in a tangy Talaxian specialty sauce, or Akarian crabs in pepper." 

"I'll take the fowl," said Chakotay. He turned to Paris. "How are the training sessions with Nydea?" he asked Paris. He was referring to Paris' flying lessons on the _Delta Flyer_ with the Head Warrior, of course. B'Elanna had wrangled with Myriam to allow Paris to take the _Delta Flyer_ out during the battle, and the Coordinator was taking every step to ensure that he was well-prepared.

Paris made an exasperated face. "Sheer hell. I thought Academy training sessions were grueling, but it's nothing compared to this." He gesticulated with a hand. "You wouldn't believe the kind of precision this woman demands of me. She's got to be the biggest perfectionist next to the Borg."

Kim looked like he was about to rib Paris about his piloting skills, but Neelix came over with Chakotay's dinner, interrupting their conversation. "Is it true that we're going to refocus our efforts on Licknor Moor instead of Tiuagad?" he asked them.

They all turned to look at him. "Not that I'm aware of," said Chakotay. "From whom did you learn this from?"

"Seven," replied Neelix. "She came in earlier for a spare hygrospanner, knowing that I always keep one under the pantry; and she mentioned something about the refocusing of our efforts. I was wondering if it was just rumor."

"Well, _we've_ heard nothing," said Paris.

"If it's true, then it must be a recent development," said Kim. "I was planetside with Janae two hours ago and she didn't say a thing about it."

"Or maybe Myriam has her reasons for keeping Janae in the dark," muttered Paris.

Kim glanced at Paris. "What makes you say that?" Then his face took on a closed expression. "No. You think that she's the spy as well?"

"I didn't say that."

"Look, she's not, alright? I've gotten to know her pretty well, and she's perfectly alright."

"If she's really a spy, I'm pretty sure she'll be able to convince you to think whatever she wants you think of her," rebutted Paris.

Kim bristled a little at the insult, but persisted in his line of argument. "I'm not _that_ naïve, Tom, and it's hard to maintain a false cover for 18 months without letting something slip."

"Really? I bet that you don't know half of the things you should about the girl. For example, did you know that she--"

"—Is a Wielder of Emerald Wind? Of course. She told me a long time ago."

"She told you." Paris looked slightly bewildered, then composed himself. "All the better to win your trust, then."

Kim sighed. "I can see that this debate is going to lead to nowhere. Alright, you can believe what you want to, but in the end what matters is that I trust her."

Chakotay cut short any further arguments by starting a new thread of conversation. "Neelix.... I heard some crewmen talking about some ritual of joining this morning. Any idea on what that's about?" 

"Ah, that." Neelix settled himself down by a nearby table, eager to share the knowledge. "It's some form of a coming-of-age ceremony; all female Mage have to go through it at some point of their lives. It's an ancient custom, originating from several thousand years ago: what they call a 'mingling of bloods', in which a woman drinks a man's blood."

Paris' eyes grew imperceptibly wider. "Drinks a man's blood?"

"It's not as barbaric as it sounds," Neelix assured them. "They have proper medical techniques, so that the man isn't harmed."

"The man isn't harmed—" began Kim, then realization dawned on his face. "You mean the woman has to drink the blood fresh from the vein?"

Neelix nodded. "Only fresh blood will do."

"I wonder why Janae never mentioned _that _when she told me about the Joining?" muttered Harry with a bemused look.

At the mention of Janae's name a silence settled on the table for a moment, before Neelix broke it by saying, "You know, I'm surprised Captain Janeway hasn't mentioned it to you before, Commander."

Chakotay looked askance at the Talaxian. "Why would she want to do that?"

"She told me she's been thinking of performing the ritual before the final battle," replied Neelix, folding his hands together in front of him. "The procedure is supposed to strengthen a Mage's powers by several magnitudes."

Kim nodded. "That's probably true, seeing that fresh blood has so many properties of higher dimensionality."

"The Captain wants to carry out this procedure?" Chakotay asked of Neelix again.

Neelix nodded seriously. "As a matter of fact, she recommends that _all_ female members of the crew undergo this procedure, seeing how we are the only unjoined Mage in the Panizhe." Then he sighed and leaned forward slightly. "Unfortunately, it seems that Myriam left out a _few_ aspects of the entire ritual when she recounted them to the captain."

"Go on," Chakotay urged him.

"Well..." Neelix seemed uncharacteristically hesitant. "The ritual is also a prelude to... marriage, one might say, since in their society prearranged marriages seem to be the norm."

"I don't understand."

"The custom is that the woman can only take blood from the man she is bethrothed to. So you can see how this might be difficult in the case of _Voyager_." 

"Well, it shouldn't be a problem for Tom," joked Kim. Paris' expression said _Oh, really._

Chakotay nodded. "I'm surprised that the captain is even considering the option."

Kim shrugged. "Why not? We don't have to adhere so strictly to their societal rules. I'm sure we could negotiate a way into performing the ritual without any other side effects..."

"Unfortunately, this seems to be a case where we can't negotiate our way through," said Neelix. "You see, the problem is that the ritual links the two individuals concerned in the higher planes. Even if there was no subsequent marriage, the connection would remain."

The group of them were silent for a moment.

"What if _Voyager_ were to remain in this universe?" asked Paris quietly. "Would the... effects of the ritual be more acceptable then?"

Everyone swiveled his head to look at Paris.

The blonde ensign continued, "It's a... possibility that I've heard being bandied about."

"The captain would never choose to settle here, likeable as this place is," said Kim with dead certainty.

"What if there's no choice?" asked Paris.

Chakotay leaned forward and stared at Paris, hard. "Where did you hear this news from?"

"It's only a possibility B'Elanna heard some of the other Mage discussing," he said. "They seem to think that the journey here was a one-way trip."

More silence. Then finally Neelix said, "Whatever it is, this issue must be settled... perhaps at the next staff meeting."

Chakotay nodded, once, slowly. "Yes. It must... before it's too late."


	26. truth is not what it seems

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**truth**** is never what it seems**

Janeway was perusing the final battle plan in her ready room, a cup of coffee steaming by her side. The gentle light of the stars shone through the viewpanels, and although she couldn't see it, she could feel the planet spinning slowly beneath the ship. The sensation was... unbridled; it sometimes felt like she had a special connection to this world, one which went beyond words, beyond expression.

Perhaps it was the subtle connection she had with the higher dimensions here, the same connection which held the planet and every living thing together in a delicately tangled web. Yes. That had to be it: magic, pure magic. She took a sip of her coffee and savored its rich, pungent aroma. Even her senses seemed to have changed; they were sharper, more heightened and detected a lot more than they used to. The world around her seemed to be brighter and more real, somehow. She glanced out of the window at the stars, and they seemed to be like shining beacons, somehow, guarding them, guiding them.

The door chirruped, interrupting her from her ruminations. Janeway put down the padd in her hand and turned to face the door. "Come," she said.

The door slid open, revealing Kes' small form framed in its confines. The Occampan seemed unusually hesitant, pausing in the doorway with her fingers entwined for a moment before stepping into the room. The door shut silently behind her.

Janeway picked up on her subtle cues immediately. **Bad news? She asked tentatively, leaning forward on her desk.**

Kes nodded. "I'm afraid so."

Janeway sighed. "The war?"

To Janeway's surprise, Kes shook her head, and gazed into her eyes intensely. Janeway paused, thinking. If Kes hadn't come with bad news about the war... what, then, was her bad news about?

It struck her the very next moment.

"It's about _Voyager_ returning home, isn't it?" she asked Kes softly.

"Yes." Kes couldn't have looked more sympathetic. "Myriam has been studying the space-time fabric closely, and has come to the conclusion that your ship has two choices: to leave for your universe immediately, or remain here forever."

"Why?"

"It is the nature of the anomaly which brought you here," said Kes. "It causes large disruptions in the higher dimensions. We can create a similar phenomenon to bring you back, but the amount of dimensional disruption it causes is proportional to its distance in the space-time continuum from the original anomaly." She paused then to allow what she'd said to sink in.

_Its distance in the space-time continuum...._ "Which means that time is a crucial factor," said Janeway softly.

"Yes." Kes walked over to the glass banister by Janeway's desk and settled down on it, placing her small hand over Janeway's. "We have determined that if the aperture isn't opened within the next few days, subsequent damage caused to the higher dimensions will be permanent."

"What kind of damage?"

Kes drew a sharp breath and turned away briefly, breaking contact with Janeway's hand. When she turned back to look at Janeway her expression was pained. "It will severely affect our ability to interact with the higher dimensions."

"Which means... your entire way of life will be disrupted, if not destroyed," said Janeway softly. Her coffee cup absently drifted from across the table into her hand; watching its progress, Janeway began to feel a cold, jittery feeling coalescing in her abdomen. With a soft sigh she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "That's not acceptable."

"No, it isn't," Kes agreed. "But you could leave now, and the damage would be minimal enough for us to adapt to it."

"Kes, I've already pledged to help your people in this war, no matter what the cost. Even if it means stranding _Voyager_ in this universe." Janeway stood resolutely. "Besides, even if we hadn't promised to help you, causing disruptions in the higher dimensions at this critical point in the war is going to have adverse effects on its outcome. So, no. Leaving at this juncture is not an option." Leaving the comfort of her desk, she began pacing the room.

Kes gazed at Janeway, sorrow and regret etched on her face. "I'm sorry, Captain. I know how much reaching home means to you, and I understand how-- what it feels like- to not be able to return home."

Janeway paused in her pacing and turned to look at the gentle Occampan. "Oh, Kes. You don't have to be sorry- it's not your fault." She glanced at the silent stars outside her window. She expected them to look cold and friendless; yet somehow they seemed unchanged, still the proud sentinels she'd envisioned moments ago. Thoughts were reeling in her head now; one after another the scrambled over each other, clamoring for attention. Images flashed by: Earth, Mark and Molly, _Voyager_'s maiden launch. Somehow they seemed lifetimes away. Unreal, swimming in some backlot of her memory like vistas from a beautiful dream, dredged up and held dear after the last traces of slumber had been washed away. 

Still gazing at the stars, coffee cup in hand, Janeway let out a breath and started talking. "There must be some other way back. I can't believe that the universe would just deposit us here with no way of returning. I'll ask Myriam to let B'Elanna look over the calculations; she might be able to find some loophole- something, anything which might help us get back to our original universe-"

**Myriam**** has a great deal of experience in these matters, said Kes, her tone slightly chiding. ****And she has exhausted the possibilities.**

**There are always unexplored possibilities, Janeway insisted.**

"Still... you should not hope unnecessarily," said Kes. "If you choose to stay now, you must be prepared to stay here indefinitely."

Janeway was silent for a while more, then: "Who else knows about this?"

"No-one else on your crew except the Doctor," said Kes. "Will you tell the rest?"

"It's impossible to keep anything secret on this ship," said Janeway, "and I shouldn't be keeping my crew in the dark about something so important. It's not a question of _if_, but more of _when_."

Kes nodded in understanding. "You're afraid of affecting crew morale."

"Precisely. I want them to be in top form when we go up against the Maldorian fleet. Feeling depressed won't help them."

"Maybe it might motivate them."

Janeway cocked her head at Kes. "How so?" she asked, clearly not seeing Kes' point of view.

"If they knew that this world was going to be their home for at least a few years, then fighting for the freedom of this world might mean a lot more to them," Kes explained.

"Perhaps." said Janeway. She set the coffee cup down on her desk, then turned back to Kes. "Thank you for telling me, Kes. I'll.... have to talk this over with Commander Chakotay before announcing it to the crew." She sighed. "I hope it won't be too hard on them."

Kes nodded and prepared to leave. Yet as she reached the doorway, she paused as a thought struck her, and she turned back to Janeway. "Captain... perhaps you should consider that some of the crew might actually be happier here than in the Alpha Quadrant." Then she left the room, leaving Janeway to digest that thought.


	27. breach of trust

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**twenty**** six : breach of trust **

The sky was breathtakingly blue; a soft fresh breeze stirred through the central clearing of the daer. Far in the distance, the low hooting sounds of daybirds sang in unison. The peace belied the air of tense excitement that enveloped the Daer-On-Naiad. If it had been any other ordinary day, Harry Kim would have been content with taking a breather to appreciate the beauty of the world around him. Yet the impending watershed battle loomed large over his head, and he knew he couldn't afford the luxury of relaxing. 

The air inside the _Delta Flyer_ was stifling hot: the environmental controls had been deactivated, and the sunlight pouring in through the viewpanels warmed the interior uncomfortably. Lying on his back underneath an exposed nest of circuits and wires, Kim felt like he was breathing liquid honey. He could feel the sweat accumulating of his hairline; inwardly he wished they could have done the modifications in orbit (where it was cooler) instead of here, planetside. It was wishful thinking: they didn't have enough time to make the modifications to protect the _Flyer_ from being detected in orbit, and, besides, the _Flyer_ was due planetside anyway. He welded the last breakers in place and snapped the panel covering back to its original position.

Janae's head came into his field of vision: she was leaning over the console, her golden hair in disarray. "You've finished with the new shield arrays?" she asked.

With a grunt, Kim pushed himself out from under the console. "More or less." He stood and brushed his uniform clean of lint specks. Janae was leaning propped on the tactical controls, hydraulic spanner in hand. Kim could hear a few of the Mage children playing in the anteroom: Bryanna, Josh, Celestine. "The only problem is we haven't tested them."

"They'll work," Janae assured him cheerfully.

"They had better," Kim said wryly, but he couldn't help thinking, _why is she so sure?_ Paranoia and suspicion danced in the back of his mind; he wanted to trust her word, but could he?

Janae, telepath that she was, picked up on his unease at once. "Something wrong?"

Kim forcibly veered his thought train away from his doubts and focused on something else instead. "Nothing... just thinking."

Janae put the spanner down and pushed herself away from the console, coming over to face him where he was working on a console. She took his hand, saying, "You can tell me."

Kim pulled his hand away deliberately. "We were discussing the ritual of joining earlier today--" he began, but Janae caught onto what he was trying to say.

"You're wondering why I didn't tell you about the full ritual," she said softly.

"Well, yes, that." Kim resumed work.

"I just didn't want to scare you, that's all," she said. "After all, your captain is seriously considering doing the ritual."

Kim chuckled dryly. "Unlikely, given the consequences."

There was a moment of silence between the two, and Kim sensed that Janae was debating on whether to tell him something that was weighing heavily on her mind. "Okay. Out with it. What's wrong now?" he asked her. 

"I- I don't think that I should be the one who tells you this."

Kim narrowed his eyes. "Tell me what? What's so hard to swallow that you can't even tell me?"

Janae looked straight at him. "Has no-one told you?"

"Told me what, that they think you're a spy-- " 

"No!" Janae interjected angrily. Her cheeks flushed for a moment before she took a breath, calming herself down. "No," she continued in a more normal tone of voice, "I'm talking about _Voyager_'s situation." At Kim's puzzled look, she continued, "It's.. it's what Myriam has been saying: that _Voyager_ is trapped here unless you leave by the end of today; if not, the fabric of space time will be so badly damaged that we won't be able to use magic--"

Kim stared at her in shock. "Is that true?"

Janae sighed, uneasy. "I'm no scientist, Harry: I'm a Warrior, that's my calling. I don't know the second thing about all this space-time mumbo-jumbo, but Myriam—she does, she knows everything there is to know about it. And I trust her judgement." As Kim turned away from him she caught him by the arm, saying, "I know this is difficult for you to accept. I know how much you miss your home-"

Kim furiously pulled his hand away from hers. "You don't know me that well!" he said, much more harshly than he'd intended. What she'd just said pounded frantically in his ears. _Trapped._Voyager _is trapped here._

"Don't I? I thought I did." At Kim's silence, she sighed heavily. "Perhaps I am a fool, then." She gazed back hard at him. "I just wanted you to know this, Harry. _I_ haven't had my Joining yet, and I never may have. My... betrothed was killed in the fighting when I was five years old; and I haven't found another. But when I heard that your captain might authorize a select few to undergo the ritual, I thought of you. I thought that, maybe, just maybe, you might consent to be my chosen partner." She paused. "But I'm wrong, aren't I?"

"I don't know. I really don't," said Kim flatly, not looking at her. "Everything's moving too fast, and the battle is only days away."

Janae withdrew from him, chewing her lip. She hesitated for a long moment, then blurted. "You believe them."

"Believe whom?" said Kim, carefully keeping his expression neutral, focusing on the work at hand.

"Oh, Harry, you know." Janae folded her arms and looked searchingly at him. "Everyone seems to think I'm a traitor. That I'm leaking all our deepest secrets to the Maldorians. To the _Empress_."

There was a long, long silence. Then Kim asked, "Are you?"

Janae turned to leave, then paused and turned back to gaze sadly at Kim. "I thought you knew me better than that." 

Then she was gone.

Kim let out a big sigh, and put whatever he was doing out of his mind. That hadn't gone the way he'd intended it to. Could he trust her word? Was everything that she said true? _Voyager_ being trapped in this universe forever, her absolute trust in him, her not being a traitor?

"She's not a Maldorian spy," said Bryanna's voice. Kim whirled to face the child, mildly startled by her intrusion. The girl was perched demurely on the edge of the tactical controls' seat, hands neatly folded behind her back. She looked amused by Kim's surprised countenance. "Josh and Celestine went back to the children's room; I was following them, but I decided your conversation was more interesting."

"You were eavesdropping," said Kim in annoyance.

The girl shrugged. "You were speaking too loudly."

Kim sighed and turned back to his work. "I don't know what to think, really," he said aloud, hoping that voicing his ambivalence would help eradicate some of his doubts.

"About Janae? She's not a spy."

Kim glanced at her over his shoulder. "And how would _you_ know?" 

"She isn't. None of the Warriors are. They're too loyal to Myriam and Nydea. They would never, ever contact the Empress, even if their survival depended on it."

Kim turned slowly from his console. "So... are you saying that the spy is from some other class?"

Bryanna looked at him straight in the eye. "None of the Panizhe are spies or traitors," she said firmly. "They're all loyal to the cause."

"So you think that the Empress gets her information about our movements from some other source?" Possibilities began to fill Kim's head. "Hidden recording devices? Shielded orbital satellites?"

Bryanna shrugged. "I don't know." Switching topics in the cavalier manner only a child can manage, she added, "I'd better get back to our room. I still have a few lessons to do before our attack on Tiuagad." 

"You'll do that," Kim told her as she left the _Flyer_, but inside his head was still reeling. He desperately wanted to believe Bryanna, but what did she know? Only notions born of childish naïveté: she might believe that the Panizhe were too morally pure to betray their own brethren, but he knew better. Yet he continued to hope that Janae could be trusted. Perhaps if what she said about _Voyager_ being stranded were true, then he'd know she wasn't lying to him. He had to find out.

And there was only one was to find out: ask the captain.


	28. where the road splits

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

twenty seven : **where the road splits**

Janeway was planetside with Myriam, running final battle situations. They had barely a day left before the big showdown, and Myriam was determined that they be as well prepared for it as possible. On the surface, she was perfectly still and calm, but within her an emotional maelstrom raged. In the months past she'd learnt to shield her innermost feelings from other Mage in the vicinity, but today it was simply impossible. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the worry, the grief, the conflict within her from erupting, leaking into the atmosphere like some kind of noisome fume.

The green-yellow of the hologrid flared into existence, then faded away into nothingness as the last simulation ended. Everything seemed to be running smoothly, yet Janeway had never felt so uncertain about the future before.

**The future troubles you, said Myriam quietly as the war room reformed around them. **

Janeway nodded silently.

**But it has never troubled you before,  she commented.**

"No," said Janeway softly. "But I've never had to make decisions like these before."

"You don't have to make them alone," said Myriam softly, putting her hand on Janeway's. She gestured, and Janeway turned to look in that direction. Chakotay had entered the war room. Silently, Myriam walked away, leaving them alone.

He came over to her. "Kathryn."

Janeway refused to look at him. "Is there a problem?" she asked mildly, pretending to toy with the holosimulation controls.

He took her hand. "I think we need to talk."

Janeway looked up at him. "So you've heard the news?"

"About the Joining ritual? The entire ship has."

She glanced away from him. No, he didn't know then. "There is more."

He took her hand purposefully, forcing her to look at him. "What about?"

She took a deep breath. How could she put the enormity of their situation into words that he could understand? The war, the ship, their predicament: how could it all fit into a sentence? "We can't leave this place," she said finally.

"Kathryn, what are you talking about?" Chakotay looked confused for a moment, then guessed: "If we choose to participate in the joining ritual?"

"No." She pulled her hand from his and turned away. "_Voyager_ is trapped in this universe. And so are we."

Realization dawned on Chakotay. "We won't be able to get home."

She nodded, once, slowly.           

He reached out for her. She stiffened, refusing to accept his sympathy, or be made to look like she needed it in the first place. "Myriam thinks that our only options are to leave immediately or remain here forever, but I won't accept that. Somehow there must be a way for us to reach our own universe without affecting the fabric of the higher dimensions. And I intend to find it."

He took her by the shoulder and turned her gently. "Have you told the crew?"

"No. Not yet." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I'll let them know as soon as this is over."

Chakotay put one hand on his hip. "Kathryn, they should be informed right now."

She gave him a piercing glare. "Chakotay, there's nothing they can do about it. Telling them about it now won't make any difference."

"I think it might," he told her.

She pierced him with an intense gaze. "How so?"

"Knowing that the future of this world is tied to their own might give them the impetus needed to win this war," he told her. "Think about it. Now they would know that the victory is worth fighting for. It will no longer be an altruistic goal, but rather, a personal one. Wouldn't that make them fight harder?"

"Yes," said Janeway, "but you haven't considered the other consequences, Chakotay." She lowered her voice. "All these years, we've been thinking of only one thing: getting home. It was our dream, our common goal. Now all that is gone. How will they feel?"

Chakotay paused, and she could tell that he was thinking, and thinking hard. After a moment's silence, he said quietly, "Kathryn, I don't know how else to say this, but perhaps you should consider that the crew might be happier here than on Earth."

"But what about our families and loved ones back home?" she asked, a desperate kind of empathy in her voice, as if trying to reach out and turn Chakotay from the stand that he had taken.

"Not all of us have families and loved ones," said Chakotay darkly, and for a moment a flash of something unrecognizable crossed his expression. Then he continued: "Even if they do, what then? We've been lost for six years. Getting back to the Alpha Quadrant may take another fifty, sixty years. We'll never know. And by then, who's to say that those loved ones will still be there, or have not changed so much that we won't recognize them?" He took her hands gently. "But here, we've found families and friends of our own. Admit it, Kathryn, there's a bond between these people and us. We've started a new life, one that might be more promising than we could ever imagine. And believe it or not, I think the crew is happy here."

She paused, struck by the absolute certainty in his voice. "You sound almost glad to remain here."

"Maybe I am," he conceded. He paused, then gazed at her. "Aren't you?"

She was taken aback by the simple question. Was she? She thought immediately of all the times she'd spent here, training, fighting, planning, and realized that unconsciously, she'd slowly allowed this place to become part of her. An indelible part. Yet the thought of Earth remained tantalizingly dear, and the thought of not seeing it again cruelly bitter. "I'm not entirely sure of that," she said finally. "I do love this place, but... it's not home, Chakotay."

He held her hands close. "They say that home is where the heart is."

She looked down at his hands grasping hers, and what he was trying to say suddenly dawned on her. "No. Chakotay, we've been through this before..."

"But it was different back then," he insisted. "As I said, we've begun a new life here. New possibilities, new beginnings-"

She pulled her hands from his and let the silence speak for her. She wouldn't be won over so easily. She wouldn't let all her dreams be crushed in one instant.

**Don't be so stubborn.**

Janeway jerked back to face him. "Chakotay!"

He looked rather unperturbed. "If Nayrn has a spy in Myriam's inner circle, there is little doubt that she already knows of the whereabouts of the Daer-on-Naiad. She's just chosen not to attack it."

"And if she didn't, you've just given our position away!" she snapped. She could feel her self-control, already worn thin by the stress and her dilemma, draw perilously close to snapping. The swirling energies of the Fire Sphere hovered deliciously close. 

Chakotay quieted. "If it means so little to you, why are you so tense?"

Then he was gone, leaving her alone with her fears and doubts.


	29. his own fears and doubts

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**his own fears and doubts**

Tuvok was meditating when Chakotay came into the men's living quarters in the Daer-On-Naiad. The stoic Vulcan did not acknowledge the commander's presence, merely continuing to sit cross-legged, index fingers pointed before him, wreathed in a cloud of smoky incense. 

Chakotay settled down opposite Tuvok with a barely perceptible sigh, and began to prepare himself for a meditative state as well. The thick fragrance of the incense filled his head, filled his entire being. He was floating, swimming in a miasma of doubt and agony. Closing his eyes, he imagined his mind to be a blank slate, white and unassuming. He cleared his frustrations, his doubts and his problems from his being, sweeping them into corners where he couldn't see them.

"You should not do that."

Chakotay opened his eyes in surprise. Tuvok had broken from his meditative state and was regarding him with the barest of frowns. "I should not do what?" asked Chakotay. 

"By merely clearing the problems from your mind, you will allow them to take root in places where you cannot see," the Vulcan explained simply. "Instead, you should detach yourself from your problems and attempt to resolve them when you have the clarity of view."

The living quarters were uncharacteristically silent. In the distance, the slow dripping of the fountain echoed off the stone walls, creating a soft, ambient sound. "Maybe I can't resolve those problems by myself," countered Chakotay.

Tuvok regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "Indeed."

"It's about the captain," said Chakotay without preempt. "She's in torment over our current predicament, and I can't think of any way to help her without causing more pain."

"I assume you are referring to _Voyager_ being stranded in this plane of existence," replied Tuvok.

Chakotay stared at him, stunned. "You know?"

Tuvok stared calmly back at him. "If you recall, I am a touch telepath; it is only logical that being in this plane has heightened my awareness of other's feelings."

"Then I assume you know the kind of pain that Captain Janeway is going through," said Chakotay.

"Your assumption is correct," replied Tuvok.

There was a long pause, during which the laughter of children filtered in through the heavy bronze doors of the living quarters. "Amongst the crew, you've known her for the longest time," said Chakotay finally. "Maybe it's better if you tried to resolve the situation with her."

"Ordinarily, I would agree," said Tuvok. He paused, then gave Chakotay a look laden with meaning. "However, in this instance, I believe that such a course of action would not be appropriate."

Chakotay gazed at the Vulcan intently. "And why the hell not?"

"Because her greatest source of pain is you," said Tuvok bluntly, although Chakotay couldn't help wondering if the Vulcan was deriving some satisfaction from saying so. "Therefore, you are in the best position to alleviate some of that pain."

Damnable Vulcan logic. Tuvok had seen in ten minutes something that Chakotay, in all his days of pondering, had failed to see. Now that he'd said it, the fact seemed blindingly obvious. "Alright, then _tell_ me, Tuvok! What do I have to do to stop her from punishing herself? What do I have to do to convince her that we truly, sincerely won't regret staying in this place, that her decision isn't going to cause us any more suffering?"

Tuvok chose to remain silent, staring at him. In the background, the slow dripping of the fountain continued unabated. The meaning of Tuvok's stillness slowly began to seep into him. Something that only he could do, something that she would only accept from him.

"You're not serious."

Apparently, he was.

Chakotay made an exasperated noise. "Tuvok, that's only going to make things _worse_. We decided a long time ago that there were lines we shouldn't cross, and now you're asking me to cross them?"

"I did not _ask_ you to do anything, Commander; it is your choice," stated Tuvok simply.

Chakotay paused. "You're right. It is. But.... it's going to reopen a lot of old wounds, Tuvok," he said. _For the both of us,_ he didn't add. 

"Considering that _Voyager_ is likely to remain in this plane of existence for a protracted amount of time, the initial ...pain caused by the Joining will surely be outweighed by the long term benefits," said Tuvok. 

"Yes. Yes... I suppose you're right," said Chakotay slowly. Their discussion was winding to a close, and suddenly Chakotay felt restless, as if he couldn't sit here waiting any longer; the inaction was killing him. He wanted to go out there, to make a difference, to change things, to shake up the world. "Thank you for your insight, Lieutenant."

Tuvok merely raised an eyebrow to acknowledge Chakotay's thanks, then resumed his meditation as if their conversation had never taken place. 

Chakotay got up from the table, surprised at how stiff his legs felt. Have I really been sitting down for that long? he mused. The smell of the incense clung to Chakotay as he walked past the giant bronze doors that swung open at his approach, filling the dim interior of the living quarters with a golden honeyed light. Chakotay stared at the cerulean blue expanse of sky with a renewed sense of purpose—yet a twinging stab of doubt hung in his thoughts.

How was he going to get _her_ to consent to this?


	30. ceremonies of light and dark

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**ceremonies of light and dark**

He was nervous.

Night had fallen over the Daer-On-Naiad, and the chill of the night air whipped around him as he ascended the carved wooden steps leading up to the viewing balcony that the mages had built, perched precariously on the branches of the scarletwood tree. Around him, life pulsed: he could feel the giant tree he was scaling breathing, living; he could feel the barely contained exuberance from the gathered crowd below at the expectatory feast; and most of all he could feel _her_, his senses sharply aware of every breath she took, the turmoil that emanated from her like a thunderstorm.

He knew why she was up here, away from the crowd, away from her people—their people. What he wasn't so sure of was why he was here. He wasn't sure if he was truly ready for what he was about to do. Deep inside he prayed that he was.

He and Paris had spent a large part of the day exploring the options open to them, finding out more about the Joining ritual and its possible consequences from the men in the daer. They'd consulted Myriam, who had advised them not to discuss it with their... partners until the ritual was over. Such was meant to simplify matters when it came to the actual ritual itself, but now, hovering on the edge of doubt, Chakotay was beginning to question the wisdom of this move. He knew that he would be feeling a great deal better if Janeway had actually consented to this ritual.

As it was, he was left with a vague feeling of dread and unease. Not very conducive for the task that he was about to do.

He ascended the last few steps, and there she was, standing alone, leaning on the smooth wooden railings, gazing thoughtfully, not at the festivities below, but at the sky. Although he couldn't see it, he knew that if he could extrapolate the direction of her gaze, he would find her staring directly at the bright star in the sky that was _Voyager_. Her ship, so well-shielded from the gaze of others, nonetheless shone brilliantly in the sky for her. 

She was dressed in the long flowing robes that the Mage women favored; her hair, which she'd been growing in true Mage tradition, spilled over her shoulders and hung halfway down her back. And for a brief, stunned moment he realized that she would look completely out of place on the bridge of a starship. His doubts faded away. He was right: she had changed so much since their arrival here. No longer the Starfleet captain he thought he once knew, but something more now. A Mage, a messiah, a leader. And she belonged to this place now, just as all of them belonged to it. All he had to do was to help her see it.

He stepped up beside her; she stiffened in response, realizing that her little sanctuary had been compromised. "It's a lovely night," he said by way of conversation. In the cold air his breath hung, mist-like, in front of him.

Janeway looked away from the stars and avoided his gaze, studying her hands. After a long uncomfortable silence, she finally said, "Yes." After a long pause, she added, "It almost seems like we were back on Earth." With frightening suddenness her gaze was fixed upon him, piercing, all-seeing. Chakotay realized belatedly that her telepathic powers had undoubtedly already told her what he was here for. Yet her blue eyes bored into his dark ones, searching for confirmation of, support for, and agreement to her statement.

"You consent, then?" he asked her softly, not daring to hope. Perhaps she'd already decided to put Earth behind her, and embrace this life—

"No," she said bluntly, crushing Chakotay's hopes of an easy resolution. "This upcoming battle is crucial, Chakotay. Everything we've worked for—they've worked for—has been leading up to this. I can't let anything affect me on that day." She fixed her disconcertingly blue eyes on his. "Including emotional attachments."

"Fighting a battle such as this while keeping a lid on your emotions is the surest way to defeat," said Chakotay. He grasped her arm gently. "Kathryn, this ritual will ensure that your abilities are honed to the maximum during the battle," he said. "You know the Joining is inevitable. Deep in your heart you know that."

Janeway shook her head imperceptibly. "I'm not ready to give up hope on _Voyager_ reaching home yet."

"You don't have to!" said Chakotay, desperation tingeing his voice. "Why can't you see it? _Voyager_ has reached home already." His arm swept a wide arc, encompassing the feast, the daer, the woods: "_This_ is home. Our people are happy here, and you can be as well, if only you'd let yourself do so."

She hesitated, trying to stall for time. "I need—"

"More time? Kathryn, when have you known yourself to be so indecisive?"

Her eyes flashed at the perceived insult. "Decisions made in the heat of the moment are often flawed, and I'm not willing to make that mistake at this crucial point of time!" 

His eyes grew equally flinty. "Then... I guess the issue has to be forced, doesn't it?" With a quick, unexpected movement, he unsheathed the short hunting knife strapped to his waist and slit his wrists.

Janeway's eyes widened with horror as his blood came surging forth from the cut, flowing over his arm, soaking his tunic a deep red. "Chakotay!" She hadn't seen this coming, and his drastic action clearly shocked her. Till this moment, she hadn't realized how sincere his feelings were about this situation; how sincere his affections were for her. It frightened her, and he could see it in the distressed tears forming in her eyes. "Why did you do that?"

The throbbing pain was clouding his senses, his thought train. "It... had to be done," he wheezed.

She seized his arms and tried to staunch the flow with her hands. "I'm not a Healer, Chakotay, I don't have the skill to heal this!" She glanced frantically at the festivities far below, then back at him. "I'll get help—"

"No... time," he said faintly. "You know... what you have to do..."

"Chakotay," she said softly, desperately. She was frightened, she was turning away, she was backing out. He didn't care anymore. The world was swimming, floating away from him. Dark spots appeared in his field of vision. Maybe it didn't matter. Perhaps it was better this way...

His world exploded with sudden forcefulness.

The world around him jumped from being a gray haze to a sharply defined, living thing. Every small detail, every minute aspect of the world seemed magnified, intensely real. Colors were richer, sounds louder, and everything seemed somehow closer to him. Conversely his body seemed to grow further and further away, until it became insignificant, swallowed up by the sheer magnitude of the world. The two seemed to merge and grow, until he felt like an all-pervading entity, observing the world, roaming the world, and _being_ the world. 

It was marvelous. It was horrifying.

And then _she_ was there, her mouth pressed to his open wrist, drinking in his blood, drinking _him _in. She was part of him and he was part of her. Their beings seemed to merge until he couldn't tell them apart. Her emotions rushed through him: fear, anguish, resolve, hate, joy. And instead of swamping him like they always did, they electrified him, revitalized him. He felt wind whistling in his ears, and for a crazed instant he imagined that he was flying, with her by his side. He was everywhere at once and nowhere at the same time, he was within her and around her, his blood ran through her veins and hers through his. Together they formed the only universe he'd ever known.

He was laughing, he was crying, he died and was born in that moment, which stretched to infinity and back in the space of a heartbeat. 

And then it ended as abruptly as it had started. He was back in the corporeal world, seated on the cold hard floor of the viewing balcony. She was slumped against him, her face, wet with tears of pain and joy, pressed into his shoulder. A strange lassitude settled upon him; he felt as if he could remain there forever. With her. Yes, always with her. They were of one soul now: he could acutely feel the difference in the way he perceived her. He was hers, all hers. He surrendered his soul willingly, even joyfully. 

Small tremors were running through Janeway's body. He glanced down at his wrists: the cuts had been completely healed. He shifted his position slightly to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Kathryn." His voice sounded hoarse. Had he actually been screaming without being aware of it?

There was no response from her. Chakotay realized that something was wrong: his new connection to her told him that. But the new sensations pounding through him were alien, unfamiliar: he had no idea what was wrong with her. Her entire body had gone limp, except for the tremors, which had grown in frequency and intensity. "Kathryn?" He lifted her head; here eyes were shut and her face was pale and covered with sweat. "What's wrong?" he asked her.

A low, soft moan issued from her lips.

He was beginning to feel slightly alarmed now. Vaguely he recalled Myriam telling Paris about some possible side-effects of the Joining, but he didn't know if it was anything like this. He tried focusing on his new, nebulous awareness of Janeway. All he could feel was the power racing and surging through her, like he always did when he tried to telekinetically scan her. 

Then he realized: the Joining was a ritual meant to amplify a Mage's powers. Myriam had always spoken of Janeway as having an incredible amount of skill. Had the ritual now magnified her powers so much so that her body could no longer function as a receptacle for it? The thought frightened him.

Suddenly her entire body went rigid, her muscles clenching tightly. "Kathryn!" he shouted. His throat flared with pain; he had been shouting himself hoarse, all right.  Convulsions began to shake her small frame. Panicking, he gathered her in his arms and held her tightly as her body strained. Now the power he felt in her was tinged with pain, great pain. Stumbling to his feet, he began running for the Healer's office, praying that he would reach it before it was too late.


	31. teardrops and seeds

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**teardrops and seeds**

She slowly became aware of the world around her. She was lying on some sort of pallet; she was aware of the soft bedding beneath her, the texture of the hand-woven blanket they'd covered her with to keep her warm. Somehow, her senses had been altered; she could feel a strange new sharpness to the texture of her perceptions. Despite the strange pounding sensation in her head, it was as if she could feel the world more acutely. Eyes closed, she could hear much more sharply than she usually did: she could hear the soft whispers of Kes and Myriam, muffled by a thick wall, she could hear the calling of crickets outside, she imagined she could hear breathing. _His_ breathing.

Her eyes snapped open as the memory of what had transpired flooded through her. She cried out once, in panic, and tried to sit up, but a sharp, stabbing pain flared up her spine and she collapsed back on the bed, gasping.

In an instant Kes and Myriam were by her side, concern etched on their faces. Kes put her hand on Janeway's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Fury was surging through her. "Chakotay! He-" she clenched her fist, imagining that he was there and she could pulp him. What satisfaction it would bring. His betrayal cut her deeply; she was reeling with shock with what he'd done to her. She'd trusted him, opened up to him... and then this.

"Calm down, Kathryn," said Kes soothingly. "It takes a while to get used to your new abilities. Does your head hurt?"

The anger she felt only seemed to intensify the throbbing, pounding pain in her head. She nodded dumbly, afraid to open her mouth in fear of what she might say in this heightened, sensitive state.

Kes ran a modified tricorder over her. The Healer's office was quiet; the diffuse ambient yellow light from the glow lamps painted soft shadows across their faces. In the background, she could see someone else lying on another pallet. Was it B'Elanna? No, it was Seven. "Kes, what's going on? Why is Seven here? Where's B'Elanna?"

"B'Elanna was here earlier; she's already left to confront Tom," Kes told her simply, and shut the tricorder. "You're doing well; you should be feeling alright in a few hours after you complete the ritual."

"In the transitional period, it is normal to temporarily lose control over your emotions," Myriam told her gently. "You will feel anger, hate, loss, joy, confusion. But that's perfectly normal, and it will fade away once you complete the movement started by the Joining."

Janeway knew perfectly what Myriam meant, but she refused to acknowledge it. "Why is Seven here?" she asked Kes again.

Kes glanced briefly at the ex-Borg, then back to her. "She, like you, has also undergone the Joining ritual."

Her head felt like it was going to explode if it didn't stop pounding. "With whom?"

Kes hesitated for a moment. "Tuvok."

The name jolted her with a powerful blow. "Tuvok?" she asked in an incredulous whisper. "He's married! What in the world would possess him to--"

"It was his choice," said Kes.

"His choice." Her voice sounded raspy in her own ears. She could feel the rage building within her: an almost palpable thing, a creature with its own volition, racing through her brain and rendering her incapable of doing anything but wishing she could tear something apart with her bare hands. "I don't believe that. He must have spoken to someone—spoken to Chakotay—he would never have made this decision on his own." She pierced Kes with a steel-clad glance. "Did Chakotay speak to him?"

Kes' eyes were inscrutable. "Captain, you should rest. The ritual needs to be completed—"

Janeway flung Kes' hand aside and pushed herself off the bed, the raging anger blotting out the pain in her back, in the sides of her head. "Where is he?" she demanded to know.

Myriam and Kes merely glanced at her with cool eyes, seemingly impervious to the tempest.

Their indifference only aggrandized Janeway's fury. "Tell me where he is!"

A moment of silence, then Kes slowly answered, "He's in your room, waiting."

She was out of the Healer's office before the sentence was complete.

The cold night air invigorated her as she ran; the anger she felt sustained her, providing the energy to take one step after another at breakneck speed. She leapt up the steps carved into the scarletwood tree two at a time, and by the time she burst into the room, her chest was heaving. She paid no heed. 

He was standing impassively by the balcony when she came raging in, staring down at the daer. He turned to her with resigned weariness in his eyes, prepared to receive a tongue-lashing.

She flew at him and grabbed him by the arms. "Why did you do it?" she shouted. "Did you think about the consequences? What would happen to us?" She stopped and glared at him, still breathing hard. 

His eyes were dull. "Yes."

She flung his arms away from her angrily and stalked to the end of the room, muttering darkly. "Damn you. Damn you."

"Kathryn." He followed her. "I'm sorry. I had no other choice."

"_No other choice!" she bellowed, her temper flaring again. "That has to be the __lamest, most dim-witted excuse that I've ever-"_

Now it was his turn to grab her, and in her anger she nearly struck out at him with her power. "Kathryn. Kathryn! Listen to me. _Calm down."_

She flung his arms away from him with the sheer force of her rage. "Don't call me by that name. Don't you _dare." Her eyes were twin maelstroms of blue._

"Captain," he said, stiffly and formally, bottling his frustation under a layer of indifference. He took a step away from her: a small, slow step; and then another, and another.

She stared at him, standing across the room from her. Despite his size, the darkly haunted, yet somehow hopeful look in his eyes made him look so lost, so vulnerable. She shut her eyes, refusing to look at him, and in that moment she could feel the wall of anger, so strong and sustaining, crumble as fast as it had come. The world seemed remote, far away. The strength left her limbs, and she leaned against the wall, trembling. She felt tears forming in her eyes, felt her throat close up so tightly it hurt. 

Chakotay returned to her side and gently wrapped his arms around her. The warmth of his body was comforting, and she found herself falling into his embrace, pressing her face into his broad shoulder. And try as she might, she could no longer hold the tears back. She cried. She cried for many reasons, many things: Earth, lost; her crew, trapped here forever; her promises, broken. But most of all she cried because doors which she thought were closed had opened again, and the pain it brought to her was more than she could bear.

 He held her close with an almost-paternal sigh, comforting her. "Didn't Kes or Myriam tell you that violent mood swings were a result of the purification ritual?"

"Stop it." She pounded furiously at him with her fist. "I hate you."

"And childishness, as well," he observed dryly.

The anger surged back through her again, and she stiffened in his arms. "So you think this is _funny, don't you. You think it's some kind of joke."_

"I never said that."

She took a deep breath, trying to get her emotions under control. "Why did you do this, Chakotay?"

He paused for a moment; a long moment in which the only sounds were the beating of their hearts. Then he gently took her chin in his hand and said with all the sincerity within him, "Because I love you."

"Chakotay." Her eyes were tired, disappointed. "We've been through this before."

"Have we?" Chakotay's gaze was deeply penetrating. "Things are different now. Circumstances have changed so much." At her continued silence, he said. "Think about it, Kathryn. This is our world now. We are now part of a larger whole, one without the limitations we had to live with-"

"One which you so badly wanted to be a part of that you forced me into this ritual."

He paused. "I'm sorry."

She immediately regretted her words. "No, don't be," she rebutted. "You were right—I was clutching at straws, clinging to an impossible hope. Maybe it was time I gave it up." Suddenly it seemed as if a bright light had pierced the gloom in her mind, and she stared at him with new hope glowing in her eyes. "You're right, Chakotay, absolutely right. We could start a new life here, move on with our lives, and cherish the times we had with those we left in the Alpha Quadrant--"

He nodded. "You think it'll redress everything that I've done wrong?"

She gazed at him. "Redress the wrongs?"

"Everything is my fault."

She frowned. "How so?" 

His brow creased slightly. "That day, when I saw you give the order for the destruction of the Caretaker's Array… I saw all the pain in your eyes. I felt so guilty then. If not for me… if you hadn't been after my ship, then you'd never have gotten stranded in the Delta Quadrant, and you would have gone on with your life and gotten married, raised a family… From that moment onwards I knew nothing I did would ever make up for it. But the least I could do was to protect you from harm. So that day, the first time I stood beside you on the bridge in that uniform, I swore that I'd never let you get hurt again." He averted his eyes again, finding himself unable to look at her. "I wasn't entirely successful. Sometimes I had no choice but to hurt you, make a choice between hurting you in one way and another. But I tried, Kathryn, goddammit, I tried."

"Chakotay." Her voice was filled with empathy, tinged with sadness. "What makes you think I blamed you for being stranded in the Delta Quadrant?"

"It's the truth."

She forced him to look at her. "It's not. Listen to me, Chakotay. I never blamed you. And we've had our differences, I know, but you've always remained objective, open, even forgiving. I've had my share of wrongdoing, but you never held it against me. You had many opportunities to betray me, but you never did. You were a loyal first officer, and...." She hesitated. "I've never told anyone this, but you have been a better friend than anyone could ever hope for." Her voice softened. "Thank you."

The honesty in her eyes was beautifully haunting.

He hugged her tightly, and that simple gesture seemed to resolve years of conflict, years of playing games, years of pain and confusion. "Kathryn," he said softly, "I know that adjusting to this new life is going to be difficult for you, and I will honor your decision if you decide to break the bond and live alone. I'll understand."

**What if honor is out of the question? What'll you do then?**

He leaned back to look at her, gazing at him with tender curiosity. "Then I'll do this." He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips, but it was a friendly kiss, a chaste kiss, a kiss between friends. Just to test the water.

She pondered his movement for a moment, still trembling on the edge of emotional insecurity after her harrowing experience. Then she leaned forwards and kissed him back.

When they broke from the kiss she leaned her head on his broad chest and let out a soft sigh of contentment. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and held her close, just savoring the feel of her light against him, the cadence of her breathing, the way her hair settled on his arm. He smiled; it was just like holding a child. 

Except that she wasn't his child, and he would never think of her as such. The woman leaning on him would be his wife, his lover, and his consort from that day forth. Just the thought of that—living the rest of his life by her side—made the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly.

She felt his joy, brushing gently against his mind. **What is it?**

"I was thinking about after the war. What we're going to do with our new lives."

 Our new lives. Yes, it did seem like she had been reborn. She laughed gently, feeling the ray of hope she'd glimpsed spiraling through her, filling her with a giddy euphoria. "Oh yes. Wouldn't it be nice to become a teacher at the Naiad College of Science and Magic," she said, "and teach the quantum theory of magic to the hapless first-years?"

"Poor kids," he ribbed. "As for me, I'll run a small commodities store at the edge of our daer. We'll have a house here, a large one. So that we can house all our six children."

"Six children!" Laughing nonstop now.

"Yes, all six of them, three boys and three girls. I'd pick you up after you finish your last lecture, and take you back and make dinner, and after dinner we'd all gather around the fire while I tell the children stories about the heroes of _Voyager and you rub my neck."_

"Hey. That's not fair."

"Okay, my feet then."

"Very funny, Chakotay."

"Then we'd go out every weekend to explore the forest, or have a picnic by the lake, and the kids'll always try unsuccessfully to burn down the trees, but fortunately they can't get past Empress Myriam's spells- yet."

"You have a wicked imagination." She raised her brows and looked playfully upwards at him. "Six children, Chakotay? I'd say we better get started as soon as possible." She straightened up and gave him a deadpan stare. "Hadn't we?"

He made no reply, except to kiss her again, this time not as chaste as before. She parted her lips gently as he probed her with his tongue, and he could fell her touch, feather light, on his mind. Slowly he reached for the clip in her hair and pulled it out, and her auburn hair came tumbling down around her shoulders. He lifted his hands into her hair and buried his nose in it, losing himself in her scent, her feel.

They broke from the kiss, and the sparkle in her eye wasn't quite so innocent anymore. Impulsively, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor. She smiled, and her hand went to the fastener of his pants. "Not so fast," he said. "Wait." He scooped her up and carried her over to the bathroom, and she was laughing giddily like a girl, no trace of the angry woman who'd stormed up to this room half an hour ago.


	32. objects in action

**The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad**

_Voyager fantasies by Taya 17 Janeway @ Nimgil_

**objects in action**

Dawn.

The reddish glow of the sun tinted the wisps of clouds hanging in the sky as it shook off the last residues of night. The daer was a hive of activity: in the war council room, Myriam conferred with the other Warriors, finalizing their strategy; in the distance, the first battalions of Ashkari fighters moved towards Licknok Moor. 

Dawn.

In the _Delta Flyer_, hovering in low orbit, Paris and Torres prepped for battle; on _Voyager_, nestled in the safety of the green forest, Kes was acclimatizing herself to the controls with Tuvok's help. The slanting rays of the sun filtered through the treetops, reflecting dully off the hull and giving the ship a languid, dappled appearance.

Dawn.

In her palace, Nayrn Maldor contemplated the reddish horizon from the cool safety of her throne room, immeasurably proud and seemingly impervious, oblivious to the rumblings far abroad; she flexed the intricate Ring on her wrist.

Dawn.

Janeway slowly opened her eyes, feeling the warm rays of the sun on her pillow. The memory of the night before enveloped her like a fragile, soft blanket; the unpleasant side effects of the Joining had faded away, and she felt refreshed, reborn. A small smile creased her face: no matter what the outcome of today's battle, the events of last night could never be compromised. For the first time in so many years, she felt at peace with herself. 

She stretched, and at that moment she realized that Chakotay was no longer by her side. Puzzled, she sat up, pushing aside the rumpled bedclothes. "Chakotay?" she asked tentatively, surveying the room.

There was a soft rustling sound as Chakotay pushed aside the strands of rice across the doorway that separated the living and bed rooms. In one hand he held a tray containing a basket of wheat rolls, some sausages, several fruit spreads and a jug of bright orange juice. "I fetched something from Neelix's kitchen," he said. "I thought you might be hungry. We have a long day before us."

Even the thought of the battle ahead couldn't entirely dispel the euphoria Janeway felt. A small smile found its way to her expression, and she watched contentedly as Chakotay set the breakfast tray before her and climbed back into bed, beside her. "How's everyone holding up?" she asked.

"Pretty good. Morale is high; everything is proceeding according to plan." He nodded towards the window. "We move out in four hours." He gazed at her. "And you, Kathryn? Ready to lead troops in battle?"

Her smile widened as she tilted her head to a side. "As always." She picked up one of the wheat rolls and took a bite. "These are good. Neelix made them?"

Chakotay laughed. "Kathryn, as you said, they taste _good_. Do you think Neelix made them?" As Janeway gave a short, amused snort, he reached out and stroked her hair once, gently, his mood sobering. Sensing this, Janeway looked up, an unspoken question in her eyes. He met her gaze and said softly, "Be careful, Kathryn. The last thing I want to do is lose you."

**Don't worry,** she reassured him. **We have the blessings of the gods.**

"Is that what Seven says?" he asked with a light dancing in his eyes. "She's made some pretty good predictions lately, you know. She predicted last week's freak shower with pinpoint accuracy, and she's started to get some visions of what's going to happen after the battle is over."

Janeway smiled. "Does that include images of my rubbing your feet while children run around the house screaming?" she asked with a wicked glint in her eye.

Chakotay's only acknowledgement of her underhand ribbing was a dimpled smile on his part. "She's doing very well, Seven."

Janeway nodded. "I'm still surprised. Tuvok... we are going to have a _very_ long talk after all this is over."

"You can't blame him. He thought it was the logical thing to do. Although I'm convinced he wasn't entirely willing—he loves his wife, despite his claims to the contrary. Seven must have coerced him into this somehow."

Janeway chewed thoughtfully on her wheat roll. "It must have had something to do with her visions," she reasoned. "Seven hardly seems the domestic type..."

"Neither do you," Chakotay teased in return.

"Low blow!" Janeway took a sip from the juice and rose from the bed. "I'd better start getting prepared for the battle. Myriam's final briefing is in an hour's time."

One hour later the Warriors and the senior crew were all gathered in the war room. The tension in the room was nearly palpable: despite all their recent victories and the strengthening of the Ashkari troops, they had never taken on a target as massive or well-protected as Licknok Moor before. They'd spent the better part of the last year planning for this offensive, and the most of the last few weeks preparing solely for the attack, but they were still uneasy. Janeway suddenly realized how many uncertainties there were in the battle to come: and everything depended on its outcome. This was the final showdown, the paramount battle they could not afford to lose. Lose the battle, and they would lose the war, and the effort of a thousand years would be rendered useless.

"This is the final plan," said Myriam, her clear voice, commanding and strong, carrying out to the rest of the room. "We have fifty battalions stationed around Licknok Moor." With a wave of her hand she brought up the tactical projection of Licknok Moor. "Twenty-five battalions will be deployed at each one of the two entrances. Each of you-- " she gestured to the Warriors around her—"will be responsible for one battalion each." She activated the motion-imaging function, and bright red dots, representing the battalions, began to move, infiltrating the city. "Meanwhile, the _Delta Flyer_ will mount an aerial assault, helping us to bring down the city walls and destroying the aerial and fortress armaments." With another slight movement of her hand, a large yellow dot swooped in above the simulation, targeting the cannons mounted on the city walls, and engaging in mid-air combat with small Maldorian fighters. "And finally, we have our fleet. The moment Nayrn realizes we are attacking Licknok Moor, she will send for reinforcements. The job of our fleet, led by _Voyager_ , will be to hold off the Maldorian fleet and protect our ground-based shield generator so Nayrn cannot transport her troops into the city itself, by conventional means or otherwise. This means that they will have to go on foot—and this means that reinforcements will take several hours to arrive." A tensely feral smile touched her face. "That gives us several hours to get our business done."

There were small murmurs of consent from around the room, and the Warrior shifted from foot to foot, made restless by their continual lack of tangible activity. They had already been briefed beforehand, and the final briefing, which was nothing new to them, was chafing on their nerves. Battle-lust ran high in the room; all the women wanted to do was get their hands on something warm and start the blood spilling. 

Myriam continued relentlessly, pulling up another schematic, this time a detailed map of the interior of the Eminent Palace. "Now, once our troops have entered the city, the two elite battalions are going to infiltrate the Palace, while the rest of the battalions will take control of Licknok Moor instead. The two battalions inside the Palace will be led by Kathryn and Janae— " she gestured to the two of them—"and they will carry out the most important function of all: they will find the Empress, they will topple her, and they will bring the Ring of Eminence back to us." 

More murmurs, more shuffling.

Myriam leveled her piercing gaze at the occupants of this room. "I cannot emphasize how important this victory will be to us. This will be our last victory, after which there will be an end of war! Yesterday out Seers saw a positive outcome for this battle, and I have a good feeling about it also. The blood and strength of our ancestors is behind us! We will not fail them, will not fail their memories, will not fail their effort and their vision. We will not fail today!"

In an impulsive surge, Torres cried out, "Victory! Victory to Ashkar!"

The cry was caught on by the Warriors surrounding her, and spread throughout the room quickly. Nearly a hundred people, shouting at the top of their lungs in unison, clenching their fists in the air, as a synergic energy surged through them. "Victory! Victory to Ashkar! Victory!" The reverberations shook the war room and could be heard for miles.


	33. onward march

**chapter thirty three: onward march**

Janeway was tensely crouched in the forest surrounding Licknok Moor. The bronze-plated ablative armor emblazoned with the Ashkari crest lay heavily on her chest, and her wrists and ankles were protected by sheathed circlets. In one hand gripped the handle of the force shield tightly, the other held on to the Casting weapon.  Ahead of her lay the flat green plains of Moor Di'an, and the fortress city could be seen, miles away, by the horizon. Around her the troops of the Panizhe were gathered. Behind every tree, every shrub, crouched a group of women with one thing, and only one thing, in their minds. The tension was thick and palpable; a strange energy seemed to suffuse them. _How could so many people be here, and still not be seen?_  She wondered silently.

Ahead, one of the scouts gave the go-ahead signal. With a grim nod of her head, Janeway crept forward.

"Well, it looks like it's time, alright," said Paris, the cavalier tone in his voice concealing the nervousness he felt inside. The _Delta Flyer_ skimmed the treetops of the forest in full stealth mode. Ahead, scanners picked up the activity within Licknok Moor. The city seemed to be functioning as per normal: if the Empress knew of the coming attack she was definitely being way too calm about it. _Or we could be walking into a trap,_ thought Paris. Sudden images of unspeakable horror popped into his head: hidden garrisons suddenly springing from the walls of Licknok Moor, drowning the Panizhe with their sheer number; a hailstorm of terrible fireballs raining down from above, cutting them down like weeds; death, destruction, destruction, death.

**Feeling uneasy? **The soft caress of his wife snapped Paris out of his loop of grisly images. Torres slid her arm around his seat and kissed his hair gently. This softness, so unlike her, was surely a side-effect of the Joining, thought Paris. The Joining... hoo boy. That mere thought was enough to put a smile on his face. It had been an fantastic experience, all right, but it had also been a rather painful one. If they survived this...

"Did I mention that you look really good in black body armor?" he asked Torres, eyeing her heavily ornamental Warrior's suit with an appreciative eye.

"I'm disappointed, Tom, I was expecting you to say that I looked better _out_ of it."

He couldn't help but smile at that one. "Hmm. Maybe you have a point." He turned back to his console and continued his preparations, his fears smoothed away by the knowledge that Torres would always be with him, no matter what.

"You're smiling now," Torres observed dryly, leaning over the edge of his chair and whispering into his ear. "I suppose you're not nervous anymore."

He chuckled. "On the contrary, being around you always makes me nervous," he joked.

Torres straightened up, folded her arms and gave him a look that he could feel through the back of his head. "Oh, really." **You're treading on thin ice, flyboy.**

"Well, you didn't have to hit me so hard yesterday night!" he protested.

**It wouldn't have been half so fun otherwise, **she replied smugly.

Paris shook his head and laughed again, softly. _If I survive this, all I have to do next is survive the rest of my life. _"Let's get this baby on the road."

The war room was filled with an expectant silence; Myriam watched the projection of Licknok Moor with a critical eagle eye, directing troop movement. Slowly, always slowly, to avoid detection. Beside her, Loess stared intently at the glowing lines with a strange light in her emerald-green eyes. Seven stood slightly further away, surrounded with padds, poring carefully through the Auguries one last time. She had spent the last hour or so meditating and practicing the specialized techniques that Tuvok and Loess had taught her; now she felt something wasn't 'right' about the Auguries and was re-reading them to see what they had missed out. 

That worried Myriam, but not as much as what she already knew was wrong.

There was a small commotion at the door of the war room; the door was pushed ajar, then slammed back, then pushed ajar again. Josh's voice floated through the crack: "Bryanna, you can't go in there now!"

Fragments of Bryanna's protest floated back to them: "I need.... attack on Tiaguad... my sister is alright!"

More scuffling, then a cry of pain from Josh. The door slammed open, and Bryanna darted in, her cheeks flushed in defiance. "He wouldn't let me in!" she protested to Myriam, hands on her hips. 

Behind her, Josh limped in with his hand on his left shin, a grimace on his face. "She's not supposed to be here! I'm supposed to look after her, but she... she—she kicked me!"

Bryanna was not in the least apologetic. "He was trying to stop me! I want to know what happens in this attack!"

Myriam held her hand up; the children were distracting her from the task at hand. "You may stay," she told the both of them, "but only if you stay completely silent."

Bryanna stuck her tongue out briefly at Josh, and went to find a corner to settle down as the boy sulked.

_Voyager_  was skimming the atmosphere of the planet, creating a warm red glow around the perimeter of the ship. On the darkened bridge, the red glow was all too apparent, complementing the flashing crimson of the red alert signal. Chakotay sat tersely in the captain's chair and watched as Kes skillfully manipulated the helm controls. _Voyager_  was soaring like an eagle; an eagle that would lead the fleet to victory—or death,

Even as he sat thinking those morbid thoughts, he couldn't entirely take his mind off Janeway. She had to be planetside now, waiting outside of Licknok Moor, waiting for the signal for the offensive. He could imagine her, crouched at the edge of a dark gloomy forest, staring grimly across the plain with the firm set of jaw that told the person on her wrong side that he was in big trouble. And that image made him realize all the more how much he loved her. Where had all this emotion suddenly come from? A week ago she was no more than a colleague and a dear friend. Now she was his wife. _The love came from inside us,_ he thought, _a love that was caged until we had the courage to let it out._ He felt a smile coming and let it show. He reached his thoughts out to her. **I love you.**

Planetside, Janeway paused in her onward march, looked upwards and smiled. **I know.**


	34. joining the battle

**chapter thirty four: joining the battle**

The attack began suddenly. One moment, all was at peace in Licknok Moor, and the next thing they knew, hell was raining down upon them. Suddenly, Panizhe troops came pouring from the forests, and the _Delta Flyer_ came screaming out of the sky raining destruction.

Nayrn was in her room, studying the city from behind paneled windows. There was something wrong here today... she could feel it in the air. It wasn't just the impending battle at Tiuagad that worried her; no, there was something deeper inside that was wrong, all wrong. Her bones were tingling queerly. Frustrated, she flexed her wrist and heaved a sigh. The war was going badly; it shouldn't have been. A sudden uncharacteristic insecurity settled upon her. She gazed at the intricate Ring winding itself around her hand and her wrist; she watched the rising sunlight play upon its surface, sending out multifaceted reflections onto the palace walls. It felt heavy, so heavy.

There was a scream, sound of things breaking. Nayrn's head snapped up in alarm. No, it couldn't be- it couldn't be! Outside it seemed as if the city were on fire. Panizhe troops poured forth from the forest like so many ants, and one of those vessels from _Voyager_ swooped down upon them like a blazing silver phoenix. Panicked thoughts reeled through Nayrn's head. An attack, the final assault! How could it be? They were supposed to be attacking Tiuagad, not here, not at the heart of the Eminence! Had her informant been wrong? Even as she thought that thought she felt a sudden surge of anger at herself. Had she become so reliant on her informant that she had failed to consider her instincts? Intelligence reports had hinted for a long time that the Ashkari insurgents were planning some kind of major offensive, possibly the final showdown itself. Yet she had steadfastly dismissed them as mere speculation, the result of overzealous operatives getting too paranoid. She should have trusted them, and not that little Ashkari traitor who had told her that the target of today's attack would be Tiuagad. 

Nevermind. No time for that—she had to take action now. With a wild battle cry, she leapt across the room with a sudden surge of adrenaline-fuelled energy, and flung the ornamental bronze doors wide open with a single furious sweep of her arm. 

The doorframe was filled with a terrifying sight, six feet of sinew, muscles and wings standing there with teeth bared. Falkner growled. "Where do you think you're going?"

Nayrn pulled her lips back in a challenging snarl. "Move aside!"

Falkner narrowed his eyes. "No."

A hot fury surged through Nayrn. She was the Eminent! How dare he, a mere servant boy, get in the way? She would teach him a lesson he would never forget, if he survived to remember it in the first place. Raising a hand, she cast a bolt of searing blue energy towards the seraphim boy.

With a feral smile, he caught her bolt and deflected it at a ninety-degree angle. The deflected bolt zipped past inches from her ear, hit the wall behind and left an angry black scorch along her favorite tapesty.

A second pair of eyes, fiery green, joined the blue-gray of Falkner's at the doorway. "It's payback time," said Falda with an unmistakeable note of glee in her voice.

The hordes were thundering forward. At the head of her battalion, Janeway ran like she'd never done before, screaming war epithets at the top of her voice like she'd completely lost her mind. Tabitha galloped forward, each of her hooves hitting the ground like a massive drumbeat, a drumbeat that Janeway's heart beat in time to. She could see enemy troops now coming from the gates of Licknok Moor, bravely surging on despite being outnumbered ten to one. Above them, a few shots from the _Delta Flyer_ blew their front ranks to kingdom come in the proverbial blaze of glory. Janeway drew her threw her head back and cried out in victory. She felt absolutely no regret at their deaths. They meant nothing to her; she meant nothing to herself. There was only the battle, and the battle was everything.

The first of the enemy ranks had reached them, there was a flash of weapons, and the fighting began in earnest. Janeway raised her weapon and fired a lance of energy towards the nearest Maldorian warrior. The powerful bolt pierced the woman's armor and she fell, her faceplate obscuring her expression. Janeway had no time to dwell upon her death; they were coming too fast and too furious for her to tell them apart; faces and voices became a blur. Time had become relative, seconds merged and melded into one another, indistinguishable, inexorable. With screaming sounds, a group of aerial fighters screamed into the sky and were met fiercely by the _Delta Flyer_. Beside her, one of her battalion fell, slain by a dark-masked Maldorian. With a snarl of rage Janeway brought her weapon crashing down upon the enemy fighter; the glowing blade of the weapon sliced cleanly through her neck. As the headless body fell towards the ground gouts of blood spurted from the severed neck, splattering Janeway in its dark warmth. She didn't care; it made her feel good. 

Janae rushed up to her side, bruised and bloodied, and pulled sharply on her arm. "The first battalions have already scaled the city gates! Call your Warriors and let us go into the city!"

For a moment Janeway paused and stared hard at Janae. A trap? Would she be leading her people into an ambush? Around her the battle raged: bodies fell by the hundred and harsh cries rent the air. Beside them the _Flyer_, having finished off the Maldorian figthers, struck a group of enemy Warriors in formation, the blast pushing them slightly off balance. From the corner of her eye Janeway saw another Maldorian charging at them. Without batting an eyelash or taking her eyes off Janae, Janeway dispatched a lance of Fire energy and cut her down.

"Come now!" repeated Janae, more urgently.

A wild fire, set off by the _Flyer'_s assault, burned hotly in the background; Janeway saw a keening Panizhe warrior toppling into it. She had to make the decision, now: to trust Janae, or not. Everything hinged on it.

Before she could make that decision, a blast from a hidden armament on the city walls struck the _Delta Flyer_ hard on the port nacelle. Spewing plasma, the wounded ship careened towards the ground, towards them. Janae pointed upwards. "Look out!"


	35. unexpected revelations

**chapter thirty five: unexpected revelations**

Myriam was tensely watching the feed from the various stations in the war room. The Seers were out in full force, taking and analyzing the readings, and advising her on the next moves. It was like a finely diced game of chess; a single mistake could cost them all their lives. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of her head: the exertion of coordinating the whole battle was taking a lot out of her considerable mental prowess.

Seven came up to her with a grave look. "I believe that I have found the mistake in your interpretations of the Auguries," she said. She leveled Myriam with a significant glance. **It is important.**

Even with her focus drawn away from the formidable presence of the ex-Borg drone before her, Myriam could feel the suppressed anxiety within her. She raised a hand. "Loess."

The chief Seer glided smoothly across the room towards the central control center. "I will take it from here," she said in the deceptively mellow voice of hers. 

Leaving the battle to the skilled handling of Loess for the moment, Myriam turned to scrutinize Seven. "What have you found?"

Seven held out the padd in her hand. On it were excerpts from the original Auguries, as well as the translation matrices that the Seers had complied over the centuries. "I believe there is a translational error in one of the reference root words used in the matrices." With a metal-capped finger she pointed out the offending glyph. "I have run fractal analyses of the language of your ancestors, and I believe that this translation deviates from its actual usage."

Myriam stared as Seven keyed in something on the padd, and the translations accompanying the texts changed: not drastically, but it was significant enough for her to notice. "But, it doesn't change the meaning, does it? This is one of the more obscure root words, I'm not familiar with it." She continued reading the re-translated texts, and her fingers, so strong and steady in battle, begin to tremble. "The meaning has not changed... has it?"

"Yes, it has." Seven gazed steadily at Myriam. "You were wrong. My captain is not the Emissary."

"No, she is not..." Myriam breathed softly. Her face had paled to the color of chalk. "How could such a grave mistake been overlooked for so long?"

"These were the first few sections of the Auguries translated by your forebears," said Seven. "Mistakes were inevitable, yet you trusted their word and did not revise these sections, and even based future translations upon them."

Loess turned, breaking momentarily from controlling the battle to bore her gaze into Seven. "What do you see?" she asked, her low voice almost musical.

"I... am uncertain," said Seven hesitantly.

Loess turned smoothly back to her work. "I look at this battle and I see victory."

"No," said Myriam sharply. "If Seven is right—and I believe she is—then Janeway should not be out there leading the battle." She went back to the control center and punched a control, bringing up an overview of Licknok Moor. She zeroed in on Janeway's signal and called up a visual of the area. 

The projection showed pure chaos; it was the site of the heaviest fighting. Warriors charged and fell on the battleground by the hundreds; and the _Delta Flyer_ soared overhead, spewing gouts of destruction onto the mayhem below. "I see her," said Loess, inclining her head to indicate Janeway. "The battle is in motion. It is too late to recall her."

"Yes," said Myriam. "The battle will have to be carried out according to plan no matter what." There was an unmistakable heaviness in her voice as she said it. "I don't like this: there are too many uncertainties in this battle, more uncertainties than we bargained for. I hope I have not put House Ashkar on the path to complete destruction."

"But you have," said Loess. "We shall cease to be."

"I concur," said Seven, her gaze far away. Myriam realized that she was looking upwards, towards the sky, towards where her new mate was. 

Janeway was onscreen, hesitating before Janae. Myriam knew that she was deciding if she should follow Janae to the inside of the city. **Go with her now,** she silently commanded Janeway. **There is no greater danger than where you are standing, **she added as Janeway and Janae looked upwards at some unknown danger, a second before the _Delta Flyer_ careened across their viewscreen engulfed in a ball of flames.

Myriam deactivated the live projection with a sudden wave of her hand, leaving only the colored schematics of the battlefield showing the battalion movement. "Yes, we shall cease to be," she said softly.


	36. unstable fixed points

**chapter thirty six: unstable fixed points**

The _Delta Flyer_ was swooping through the air like an avenging angel. Seated at the helm, Paris focused his mind on the controls like Torres had taught him to; he was enveloped _in_ the _Delta Flyer_, it seemed. It was an almost euphoric feeling, being one with the machine, as if he understood it completely. And he did. He could see the layout of the world below him with such absolute clarity, it was startling, He fired the phasers, and Torres fired the torpedoes and kept an eye on sensors and _Voyager_'s status. And he flew. Oh, how he flew. 

The fighters were gone now, blown to shards by the _Flyer_'s powerful Fire-enhanced weapons. It had been a tough battle, but the enemy fighters had been poorly coordinated and their shielding had crucial flaws. Still, the _Delta Flyer_ had taken a beating, and her shield strength had dropped alarmingly to fifty percent. Paris was determined to keep it at that level and no lower. He would be better prepared the next time. 

"There's a moving armament on the city wall that you missed," said Torres, fingers flying over the controls. "You should take it out."

Paris glanced at the tactical screen she'd mounted beside the seemingly-archaic controls on the _Delta Flyer_. She was right; the monstrous construct was crawling on the edge of the city wall and taking potshots at the Warriors battling below. A dark scorch clawed its way across the aggregation; he guessed that he'd hit the targeting mechanisms, but had left the weaponry unscathed. That would explain the wild shooting; he watched as the armament lobbed a poorly-aimed blast into a phalanx of Maldorian Warriors. "I don't know, B'Elanna," he said with a chuckle, "they're probably doing more damage than we are."

Torres scanned the area. "You're right. With targeters out they'll be not much of a threat. We have other things to worry about."

Paris closed his eyes and refocused his efforts on the battle. With Torres' guiding hand in his mind, he visualized the battleground before him, visualized the controls of the _Delta Flyer_, visualized the targeting scanners of the _Flyer_. Maldorians—where was the highest concentration? Target. Aim. Fire. No time to think. Only the ship, and the battle, and the firing, the firing, the constant firing.

Target. Aim. Fire. He blasted a group of five into oblivion with a single shot of his phasers. Fires burning bloodred; Torres' silent cry of triumph within him.

Target. Aim. Fire. Another group, converging on an isolated pocket of Ashkari fighters. They were flying close to the ground, close enough that the fire burning on the ground were fanned by the wake of their passage.

Target. Aim. Fire. A third group, this time distressingly close to the captain. He felt her stumble as the blast shook the ground. He felt the deaths but chose to ignore them.

Then a sudden jolt threw him out of the chair; with a sickening lurch he felt his fingers slide off the controls before he hit the ground with a huge crunching thud. Stunned, he scrambled to his feet. His head was pounding, his feet somehow wobbly. Thick smoke in the air, klaxons blaring; he could barely see the controls. "What happened?" he demanded of Torres.

"We took a hit to the port nacelle—it was that armament we spared—we're venting plasma!" She sounded angry, strong. 

"Can we fix the damage?" he asked. He tried to reconnect with the _Flyer;_ he got nothing. The ship was badly damaged; he could be as well. His ears were ringing. He looked at the altitude control and it didn't look good. "We could divert the plasma from the injured nacelle--"

"No time!" She exclaimed, and she was right. The _Flyer_ was plunging towards the ground in flames; they would impact in less than thirty seconds. 

Torres hauled herself across the crazily-tilting floor. "What are you doing?" he asked her.

She lunged for the transporter controls. "Getting you the hell out!" And before he could protest the _Flyer_ faded away in a series of blue sparkles.

Space has never been a friendly place for humans, and it was even less so when filled with enemy who were trying their level best to blast you into oblivion—and suceeding. Yet in the command chair, with the beautifully ethereal Dione beside him, Chakotay had no time to ruminate on such thoughts. Everything was focused on the battle.  gazed at the scene unfolding before him. The Panizhe fleet, a motley complement of slightly more than a hundred ships, faced ten or so behemoths of the Eminent fleet. The nearest Eminent ships were ten hours away; the battle would have been decided, one way or another, by then. The Panizhe fleet, of course, had no reinforcements. Everything that they had was there. 

Shots blazed across the viewscreen; some flared as they hit their targets. On the darkened bridge Chakotay watched grimly as another one of their smaller vessels was decimated by a volley of bolts from one of the Eminent destroyers, first glowing from the inside, then expanding into a fireball of superheated vapors and shards of metal fragment. He only prayed that the crew had made it out alive.

Before him, Kes winced as one of their ships spiraled out of control and smashed into the side of the Eminent destroyers, erupting in flame. The destroyer shuddered under the impact and began to lurch slowly; Chakotay could see it was already beginning to disintegrate.  _One down, too many others to go,_ he thought grimly.

Kes calmed herself down and continued steering _Voyager _as the battle continued. Chakotay and Dione continued to give orders. Kim and Tuvok continued to work in tandem. Between them the newly-installed tactical projector glowed green; the holographic projection of the ships swirled in the air like wraiths.

A combined attack from _Voyager_ and two other Panizhe ships blew another one of the giant Eminent ships to pieces; the expanding pressure wave swept across _Voyager_ and the ship shook violently as it was pitched backwards, like a child's toy in the water, set adrift. On the bridge, Chakotay gripped the armrests of his seat—Janeway's seat—as the bridge tilted at an awkward angle.

Just as things were slowly returning to normal on the bridge, they were jolted violently—from what? Chakotay was nearly thrown out of his chair; klaxons blared from somewhere. The bridge was beginning to fill with thick white smoke; it stung his eyes. "What was that?" he demanded.

"Some kind of tricobalt-equivalent device!" Kim grimly reported from the conn.

"Shields down to sixty percent," Tuvok added.

"I can hold it together," said Dione in her musical voice, shutting her eyes in concentration. "The Maldorians have changed tactics-- they know that the Panizhe will fail without our direction."

"Then transfer our authority to another one the ships then— " Chakotay began, but he was cut off by Tuvok.

"Our shields are being regenerated," the Vulcan said with an enviable lack of emotion. "I would suggest we alter our tactics to include protecting _Voyager_ as well."

"No," said Chakotay staunchly. "I don't want to waste precious resources. Arrange for authority to be transferred down the command chain in the event that _Voyager_ is destroyed."

Tuvok acquiesced with a slight tilt of his head. "Done."

"Good." Chakotay rose from his chair. "Gather the ships in sector forty-two alpha and perform an alpha pattern attack on that ship over there-" he turned quickly to look at the projector, "-in sector fifty-one delta."

The Panizhe ships regrouped as the commands were issued, surrounding the giant ship in question.

"On my mark," said Chakotay.

Behind them, another behemoth changed course to protect its fellow destroyer.

"Now!"

The ships opened fire at their specified target squares; the coruscating red energy blazed forth at the Maldorian ship. Rocked by multiple explosions, the ship began listing to a side.

"Break formation! _Kahtari_, to the flank! About turn, and fire at the one behind us!"

"They're charging weapons-"

"Evasive maneuvers—_Elysia_ and _Merentia_, fire forward arrays—now get us out of here!"

_Voyager_ soared upwards as the behemoth shot forward on a collision course with the dying destroyer. Behind _Voyager_, the three Panizhe ships attacked as Chakotay instructed. Their crews joined by an intangible network of psychic connections, the Panizhe ships worked in perfect harmony.

The tide was turning. Or at least, he hoped it was turning.

Then before him Kes gasped. "They're in trouble on the surface."

Janae slammed hard into Janeway, knocking her to the ground. Janeway watched, stunned, as the flaming _Delta Flyer_ thundered above their heads. She could feel the heat from the burning plasma; the sound was deafening. The ground shook. The Warriors scattered before the ship as she came hurtling down. With a terrible sound, the vessel struck the ground and skidded several hundred meters, gouging a huge trench in the earth. Pushing Janae aside, Janeway struggled to her feet and ran for the wreckage. **Tom! B'Elanna!**

There was no reply; Janeway feared the worst. Then weakly, Torres' voice: **I'm fine.**

Janae caught up with her. "We must lead the troops into the city, _now_!" she insisted.

Janeway thought of Myriam's voice in her head. But no, she had to help Paris and Torres. "Lead them! I will follow!" she instructed Janae. Then she ran forward.

The _Delta Flyer_ had finally stopped moving. In the darkened, smoky interior, Torres climbed to her feet. She was aching everywhere, but she shut the sensations out, ignored them, walling them off into a part of her that didn't exist. She was alright. Tom was alright. The _Flyer_ had flown her last, but they could always build another. Everything would turn out fine.

In her mind Janeway called out for her. **I'm fine**, she insisted staunchly, but somehow the words didn't come out as strongly as she hoped. She took a deep breath, marshaling her reserves of strength as Nydea has taught her.__

The viewing portals had been badly damaged and were heavily splattered with the dirt thrown up by the ground; the light they let into the interior of the wreck was minimal. Relying on her memory of the ship's interior, Torres fought her way to the door. They were jammed, but she forced them open. Her pike was strapped to her utility belt; she extended it and jumped out into the open, ready for battle.

It was a hellacious mess. From above, the battle scene had looked distant and isolated, but here, up close and personal, she could feel its frenzy. And the frenzy was drawing her towards it—she felt a sudden surge of adrenaline, a readiness to do battle. Pain and exhaustion fell from her, forgotten in the heat of the battle.

Janeway was running towards her; there was an immediate relief in her face as she saw Torres emerge from the wreck of the _Delta Flyer_. 

It was then that Torres saw the figure running behind Janeway, a serrated metal force pike in hand.

Time seemed to slow. In horror, she watched as the pike left the assailant's hand and sailed towards Janeway. She opened her mouth to scream a warning, but still the pike sailed in an inexorable arc, hurtling towards its target—

Janeway was thrown forward by the impact of the pike; her eyes widened in surprise as she crumpled to the ground, the front of the pike protruding through her chestplate—

"**_NO!_**" shrieked Torres. "Captain!" She rushed forward to Janeway's side, a sudden pounding in her head. _This can't be happening—it's only a dream—no! It's not real!_

Someone seized her wrist, breaking her stride, It was Janae, her eyes somehow frantic and bloodshot. "No time for that! The _city! _"

Torres flung her aside with a crazed scream and rushed towards Janeway. She had somehow pulled the pike out of her and was now lying crumpled on the ground in a spreading pool of blood, the pike lying beside her in her bloodied hand.

This time Janae leapt in front of her and seized both her wrists. "It's too late!" she shouted in Torres face, and Torres could see that there were angry tears in her eyes. "If you want to make her death count, _continue fighting! Kill the **bastards!**_"

The stunned grief within Torres wouldn't let her fight. She wanted to curl up and cry, or wither away so she wouldn't feel the pain. But there was something else, someone else in her head, screaming instructions, and working her up into a frenzy. And then she felt angry. Gods, she felt _so **angry—**_

A half-deranged scream ripped from her lungs, and she seized her pike with a firm grip. "**_KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!_**_" _And then she lunged forward and ran for the city, cutting down everything unfortunate enough to stand in her way.


	37. on the edge of a knife

**chapter thirty seven : on the edge of a knife**

The flaming wreck of the _Delta Flyer_ was growing larger in her field of vision. Janeway ran like she'd never run before. B'Elanna wrenched the door open and jumped into the light, her pike at ready. A sudden relief rushed through her, but it was brief. B'Elanna was alright, but what about Tom? God, if the Maldorians had done anything to harm a single member of her crew, she'd kill them, she'd hunt them down to the last—

Something in Torres' expression changed; it was the only warning she got before she felt the impact: the impact of something hitting her hard in the back, throwing her off balance. _A rock, _she thought,_ someone's thrown a rock at me!_ She fell to her knees and wondered why she was feeling so strange; looking down, she realized that there was something wrong with her chest armour as well. 

Then it struck her:_ I've been speared! _The serrated edge of the pike was sticking out of her breastplate. Dazed, she grabbed at it with both her hands and pulled as hard as she could. The pike tore from her body; it was a short one. She gazed at the blood-slicked object in her hand with something akin to amusement. _This thing went through me?_ In the background she could hear Torres screaming, but she didn't really care. She was floating. Or maybe the world was spinning. _So, is this the end? Dying feels stranger than I thought it would. _She didn't really care. Her vision was turning white; and as she slid to the ground she reached outward. **Chakotay…**

"Trouble? What sort?" Chakotay demanded of Kes. 

Kes' eyes were closed in concentration. "They need our help. The _Flyer—_it's been shot down."

"Sir," said Kim abruptly, "we've just got an emergency transport from the _Delta Flyer_. It's Tom."

Chakotay glanced at him. "B'Elanna?"

"Unknown."

There was no time to hesitate. "Subcommander Terenni will take charge up here. Take us to the surface."

The crew complied without question. _Voyager_ dived down towards the deceptively peaceful blue planet beneath them, whilst the battle raged on behind them. The tide was turning. The tide was turning. Chakotay returned to his chair. Now it was time to help Torres—

Janeway's voice sounded in his head. **Chakotay…**

She was in trouble. He could feel it immediately. **Kathryn!** He tried to reach out to her mentally, but he couldn't connect to her. Sudden panic flooded his mind. What had happened on the surface? He tried to reach someone else: Torres, maybe; who else on the crew was fighting on the surface? Seven? But he could reach none of them; he wasn't as skilled yet. **Kes?**** What's going on?**

**The captain has been badly hurt. You must try to help her. I will call for Myriam.**

_Badly hurt…_ He didn't know what Kes had meant by that, but he knew it was serious. **_KATHRYN! _**He shouted frantically. He didn't care if the whole Eminent fleet could hear him. The only thing that mattered was that if she heard him. _Please, let her hear me…_

Then, her reply. **Chakotay.**** I'm here. I'm holding on for as long as I can, but I don't know how long this will last… **her voice faded off.

**Kathryn! Don't leave me.**

**I'm still here.**

And then he was standing beside her, somehow. She was standing of the edge of a cliff and slipping. Dimly he was aware of the presence of _Voyager_'s bridge somewhere in the real world. A Vision Quest then? He turned towards her. "I'm here with you."

Janeway nodded. At that moment the ground beneath her crumbled, and she fell. "Kathryn!" he shouted, and seized her hand with one arm. Her weight nearly dragged him over the edge as well, but he dug his elbows in as he hit the ground and pulled backwards. Pain flared up from along his arm—imaginary pain, he knew, probably simulating all the mental effort he was putting in to keeping her here, in this plane of reality.

**I won't let you fall**, he swore. **I won't.**

"Give me your other hand," he told her.

She reached out and placed her hand in his. Now he slowly pulled her upwards. If done physically, he was sure it would have been an easy task—she weighed so little in real life—but here, he was really struggling just getting her over the edge, much less onto safety. He thought about healing techniques but it didn't help. He would have to metaphysically get her back to safety.

The effort was draining him. By using his knees and elbows he had managed to wriggle half a meter back, so that her hands were now level with the cliff surface, but that was far from enough. Worse still, the edge of the cliff looked like it was about to start crumbling again. This time, it could pitch them both over the edge.

He needed help.

"Leave me," said Janeway firmly. "Focus on the battle." When Chakotay didn't comply, she added, "That's an order."

"Then I'm afraid you're going to have to court-martial me. I'm not leaving you… not until we get you… up here." He pulled harder again, this time pulling her wrists past the threshold of the cliff edge. "See, we'll get there eventually."

Nayrn was fighting for her life. The seraphim children were nowhere as skilled as she, but they were strong, and they fought well together.  She had so far managed to deflect the bolts of energy they had struck at her, but they had done the same to the energy she had struck at them. It was frustrating. Where were all her guards?

A figure appeared at the end of the corridor. Jackelyn! "Help me!" she implored at her daughter.

Jackelyn looked uncertainly at the seraphim twins. Falda turned and shot a blaze of coruscating Fire energy at her. As a wielder of Ocher Fire, she was slightly more adept than Jackelyn, but her brother was only a wielder of Saffron Fire, and evenly matched. With the might of Nayrn's Purple Ice, the two of them could defeat the twins, put them in their place. "They are no match for us!" she insisted.

Jackelyn nodded, and extended the force pike she'd been keeping by her side. She charged at the twins and unleashed a concentrated blue bolt of Ice energy at Falkner. He ducked, leaving Falda open to attack. While Nayrn let one at Falda, Jackelyn aimed at Falkner again. He was too busy trying to protect his sister to notice the bolt of energy heading for him.

But the blue bolt was deflected abruptly by a lithe figure which seemingly appeared from nowhere. The wolfchild landed, crouched on all fours, teeth bared at her half sister. "They may be no match for you," she snarled viciously, "but neither are you a match for _me_." And then she let fly with a powerful bolt that Jackelyn barely had time to duck from. The edge of it caught her fine auburn hair and set it on fire. With a yelp Jackelyn beat out the flames.

The wolfchild inserted herself between the twins and Jackelyn. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this," she said.

Jackelyn turned and ran.

Things were not looking good. Now the wolfchild and the seraphim twins regrouped to face her. She could see the anger, surpressed in court, burning fresh in her eyes. Things were not looking good. She had to find some way out. Nayrn glanced around her. She was the Eminent! She could not be defeated by mere children. She would find a way out. She would… 

Yes. She saw it. The secret passageways left behind by their predecessors. Few knew of their presense, and even lesser knew how to activate it. As a matter of fact, only _one_ could open those passageways: the Eminent herself. The one who wielded the Ring. Backing away from the trio, she focused her energies on the intricate band around her wrist. It started to glow, and she could feel one of the conduits snaking through the fabric of space-time curve towards her. _Yes…_

Behind her, a terrible swirling vortex opened, whipping a gale into the narrow confines of the corridor. The children staggered back from her, awe in their eyes. Yes. Let them fear her. Let them realize that they had engaged a foe far beyond their ken. After this battle was over she would make sure they paid dearly for this transgression.

With a smile of victory she cast herself backwards into the vortex. She heard the wolfchild cry, "She's getting away!" but it was too late for them to do anything. The vortex swirled around her, speaking to her, infusing her with power. In her mind's eye she saw the map of the entire Eminent Palace, resplendent in the heart of Licknok Moor. **Take me to the throne room**. 

The vortex curved obediently and brought her to the throne room. Its arrival ripped the new tapestries she'd installed yesterday, and her favorite one fell into one of the ponds, but such details were trivial. First, the battle…

The servants attending to the room scattered as she arrived amongst them. Nayrn could taste their fear and uncertainty. Privately she was furious. Did they doubt her ability to bring the situation back under control? She would make sure they paid for this. Yes, they would all pay. 

She gritted her teeth and reached her thoughts outwards. Instantly she was connected to the frenetic activity around her. Her last two destroyers in orbit, fending themselves from the dogs of the Panizhe fleet; the Panizhe troops on the ground, flooding the first gates of the city; the fighting within the Palace itself. She was appalled. Spies, traitors, deceit, right under her nose! She had not been keeping close enough eye on them. The prognosis did not look good.

Then she saw something that made her smile. The Emissary was in trouble; _Voyager_ was on the surface, fighting in place of the _Delta Flyer_. She felt the man on the bridge, trying to heal his mate. She saw the embankments on the city walls that the small ship had missed; _Voyager_ was targeting them but not fast enough. She saw the way.

With a feral smile she reached her thoughts out towards the starship.

******

He was very near to success. She was already halfway over the edge, and he was on safe ground. Just one more tug and she would be safe, with them. He was exhausted, but that was inconsequential. He had healed her, somehow, through the sheer power of his love. It felt good.

And then Myriam was by his side, helping him, encouraging him, pulling her up together with him. **You should not be here! Focus your efforts on leading the battle!**

**No! You don't understand how important she is to us.** Myriam was stubborn. **We cannot afford to lose her. Now, pull with me! **

Chakotay heaved with all his might; and then she was tumbling on top of them—

And in that instant something terrible happened. A gruesome force came between them, tearing them apart. Her hands slipped from his, and he was dimly aware of her crying out as she fell backwards. **Kathryn!**

The world exploded with sudden force; a blindingly bright light filled his head.

And abruptly he was back in the corporeal bridge of _Voyager_, his head pounding painfully. She was not there with him. He reached out, screaming her name. There was no reply—she was not there.

She was gone.

Dione's face looked pale, ashen. "There's something wrong," she said. "The battle—it's gone. I can't connect to anything—"

"Neither can I," said Kes from the helm.

"We've lost something," said Chakotay softly, as _Voyager_ was struck hard by a volley from the city.

She was over the edge. It was a relief. For a moment she had thought she was going to die, but now Chakotay was here and he was helping her. There still was hope after all. She thought of the battle, and how she was going to cut the Empress down when she saw her—

Then something wrenched her backwards. She cried out as her hand slipped from Chakotay's and she fell towards the edge—

Desperately she threw her hand out and snagged the edge. It didn't crumble, but she knew she would not be able to hold on for long. **Chakotay!**

There was no reply; yet a strong hand seized her wrist, and together they pulled her over the edge. But it was Myriam, not Chakotay. **Where's Chakotay?**

Myriam looked perturbed. "I do not know. I cannot feel _Voyager_'s presence; I think something may have happened to them." At Janeway's worried expression, she added, "I do not know. There are many things happening in this battle that we did not expect. It is standing on the edge of a knife. You must go into the city; help Janae. Things are not going well there."

Janeway nodded. Time enough later for grief; now was time for action. 

"Take care," said Myriam. "I cannot be with you where you go, and now I must settle other affairs. Small affairs. You have a destiny to fufil…"

The world was returning around her; she was lying on the ground, looking up at the darkened skies, lit only by the fires burning around her. Myriam's voice was fading.

**You must know that you are not the Emissary, but…**

**What?**

Janeway sat up on the battlefield. Myriam was gone, her presence in the distance. She couldn't hear Chakotay, she couldn't hear the voices of her crew. Her hand went to her chest; the wound was gone. **Myriam****?**

There was no response. What had she been saying? Had they been wrong all along?

Overhead, a terrible dark shadow screamed. She looked up; it was _Voyager_. The ship was burning too, perhaps careening to the ground like the _Delta Flyer_ once had. Was the crew dead, injured, or incapacitated? She had no way to know. The ship flew out of visual range, perhaps to a fiery death.

Now it didn't matter. If anything had happened to Chakotay, the Empress would pay.

 Her pike lay on the ground beside her. She seized it with a hand crusted in dried blood, and raised it to the sky. She let loose a terrible battle cry, rose to her feet and plunged forward towards Licknok Moor.


	38. the wolf in sheep's clothing

**chapter thirty eight: the wolf in sheep's clothing**

Myriam turned away from her conversation with Janeway and sighed. Now there was danger in the Daer-on-Naiad. 

Seven glanced at the holoprojector. "The Empress knows where our tactical center is. Her attack pattern has changed."

"So it would seem," said Myriam softly. She entered another set of instructions into her console, redirecting the movement of troops and the ships above. _Voyager_ was not showing on the scope—she tried not to think of that too much. There were more things to focus on than that. Important things. Difficult things.

"I wonder why," said Myriam softly, "in all the time that Nayrn's spy was here with us, she never thought to attack the Daer-On-Naiad?"

"Perhaps she didn't want to put herself in danger," suggested Josh.

"Unlikely," said Seven. "If she were truly a defector, then she would have nothing to fear from a Maldorian attack."

"Well, maybe she doesn't want to see the daer destroyed, or maybe she—" Josh continued.

Myriam cut his explainations off with a wave of her hand. "Or maybe she had something else at stake."

"I don't understand." The boy looked confused.

"Maybe she had something to gain by telling secrets to the Empress. Maybe there was something she wanted."

"If it was a she," Seven added darkly, glancing at the boy.

Josh continued. "You mean… Janae? That's what everyone was saying…"

There were shouts from outside. Myriam glanced towards her projector screen; Maldorian fighters were on their way towards them. The ground was shaking; their shields were being compromised. Myriam had set up those shields countless years ago, to prevent the Eminence from detecting them. Now they were failing, and she hadn't enough strength to sustain them and fight the battle at the same time.

"We have to stop them," said Josh. "You can stop them, can't you?"

"Stop them?" Myriam laughed. "No, this part of the battle is over. If we fall, we shall fall; and the rest of the galaxy shall turn without us. Perhaps it will be better, for the spy is here with us, and we should perish together."

"Here, yes," said Loess. "It was something that should have been seen a long time ago."

Seven tilted her head. "We have failed."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Josh. "Who—"

"Maybe you should tell us," said Myriam quietly. "Bryanna?"

The child remained silently seated in her corner. She hadn't spoken since the conversation had begun, and was now staring fixedly at the battle display. The cavernous hall was silent save for the distant rumblings of war.

There was a long, long pause.

"Well?" asked Myriam softly.

The rumbling grew insistently louder.

The child hesistated, then looked at her mother, eyes shining. "I had no choice."

"Really." Myriam sounded more disappointed than angry.

Josh turned to look at the girl in the corner. "It was _you_?"

Bryanna looked at him. "I'm sorry."

"I don't believe it! I can't be you! What—"

"It is me. I'm sorry." Bryanna's voice was high-pitched, tremulous.

He couldn't believe it. "Why? Why betray us? What has _she_ ever done for you, huh? She killed your mate, she killed _our people and yet you went to her, told her everything_—" The child's voice rose to a shriek.

"_She was going to find out about Calista!_" screamed the girl as she jumped to her feet. She threw herself at her mother's feet, sobbing. "Anyone else would have told her—anyone else but _me!_ I had to make sure nobody ever found out! _Nobody!_"

Myriam hauled the girl to her feet by the straps of her dress. "And did it ever occur to you that _nobody_ would have gone to the Empress at all? Did it ever?" Her voice was low, dangerous. 

Bryanna stared at her mother with unwavering, moist eyes. She sucked in a breath. "Someone was going to, sooner or later. They hear a lot of things around the daer. The men… some of them didn't want things to change. They didn't want their life to change; they didn't want to learn magic—"

"Who are they, Bryanna? Who are they?"

Tears spilled from the child's red-rimmed eyes as she sucked in another breath. "The… other children. The ones who've passed beyond."

Myriam released the child. "Ghosts, Bryanna?"

The girl nodded, looking at the floor.

"There's no such thing as ghosts."

Bryanna looked up. "Yes there are, I've seen them with my own eyes!" She turned and glanced at the rest of the room. "No-one else can see them! Only I can!"

"No, Bryanna… you must be mistaken. When we pass beyond, we truly leave this world behind." She put her hand on the child's shoulder.  "It has been proven."

Bryanna shook Myriam's hand off her shoulder. "No! I know what I've seen."

"It was a trick, Bryanna… somehow she must have tapped into your mind, tricked you into believing her…"

"No," said Josh, "that doesn't make any sense. If the Empress could see into her mind, then she could have seen _anything_ she wanted to."

"No," said Myriam, "There are some barriers that even the most powerful of all Mage cannot overcome by themselves." She gazed steadily at Bryanna. "Love is one of them."

Bryanna tore from her mother's grip. "You don't love me! You don't care about me!" She shrieked. "Only Calista did, and I didn't want her to get hurt!" So saying she ran out of the war room.

Myriam stared after her. "I was so focused on the our struggle… Never did I realize how much she was suffering," she said softly.

Loess put her hand on her arm. "Time enough for later. The battle."

Myriam glanced at the battle simulation. "We must stop them." The roar of approaching fighters was growing thunderous now; the war room was visibly shaking. 

Then outside came the high pitched cry: "Stop it, you're killing us, _you're killing us!!_"

Myriam looked alarmed. "Bryanna!" She glanced towards Loess for confirmation. "We cannot allow her to take her own life—"

Loess looked terribly old and ancient. "We cannot turn her from the path she has taken. Nayrn has been manipulating her for years. Perhaps this is the only way that she can repent for all that she has done."

Myriam blanched. "She is my youngest—"

"And the most willful and wayward," said Loess. She put her hand on Myriam's. "We all make our own sacrifices."

Seven, ever monitoring their battle status, reported, "The fighters will intercept us in forty seconds. The troops await your commands."

Myriam stared flintily at her head Seer. "Have I not made enough sacrifices for our cause? And now you would ask me to let my own child die? You, who have never been a mother, would dare to presume such a request?" She moved towards the door rapidly. "I will not allow that." She pushed the bronze doors open, and the roar of the approaching fighters shook the room. She glanced upwards and shouted. "**_Bryanna_**!"

In the distance there was a faint scream of a child, and then the entire shielding surrounding the Daer-On-Naiad turned fiery red, surging with energy. The sky had caught fire; it was burning. Myriam sank to her knees. She had been too late.

Loess glided across the room and pulled her to her feet. "Janeway has entered Licknok Moor," she said.

Myriam turned back and glanced at Seven, her face frozen, eyes expressionless. "The fighters?"

"Destroyed." The ex-Borg kept her tone neutral and emotionless, but it was a struggle. She paused for a moment, looking down at her console, then glanced back at Myriam, and now her large blue eye was shining. "It was… a noble sacrifice. The Empress should no longer suspect that we exist. She cannot detect our remodulated shields. Her fighters were taken in what seemed to be a massive explosion. Her spy is … no longer transmitting." The last few words were nearly caught in her throat. "It was noble," she repeated finally.

Framed against the doorway, the tempest howling outside, Myriam looked suddenly brittle and fragile. "Perhaps it was," she said softly, her voice devoid of its power and command. She glanced once at Josh, too traumatized to speak, and then repeated in a near-whisper, "Perhaps it was."


	39. the heart of the empire

**chapter thirty nine: the heart of the empire**

Torres had somehow reached the palace interior unhurt, carried by the force of her fury, perhaps. She wasn't thinking anymore: the only thing on her mind was blood, blood, blood. She wanted blood, to smell it, to feel it, to taste it. She wanted their blood.

Beside her, Janae fought with a furious intensity, switching between Spheres to keep her opponents off-guard. She was genuinely upset over Janeway's death, almost as much as Torres was. It seemed that Myriam's fears of her being the spy amongst the Panizhe ranks were unfounded. The fighting on the steps had been the worst; the palace guards were highly trained and hadn't given in easily. They had to kill most of them.

The fighting continued unabated even in the corridors of the Palace. Dead bodies littered the hallways, and the stench of blood and smoke hung heavy in the air. Torres combed the corridors, searching for the Empress. She would hunt her down, and kill her—

She and Janae stopped. They had reached the end of the long hallway and were standing in the vestibule that led to the throne room. An entire phalanx of Eminent guards stood in the way, expressions grimly resolute. There had to be at least thirty of them. Torres glanced briefly behind her; there were two or three Panizhe Warriors at the most. The rest of the invasion force were either fighting or slain. The odds were not good, yet she turned back and faced the wall of guards, her jaw set into a grim, determined line. She would not let them stop her, not when she'd come so far. She wished she had her bat'leth with her, but she had left it on _Voyager_, having not anticipated fighting in hand to hand combat. Raising her pike high into the air, she let out an ululating battle cry and charged forward. Janae leaped after her.

She mowed down the first guard she came to with sheer brute force, but the next few were not so easy. Soon she was surrounded by guards and fighting hard, for all of them possessed great skill and were dedicated Casters of Purple Ice, all fair matches for the strength of her Scarlet Fire. Janae, too, was struggling: it seemed that these guards were specially trained to deal with assailants wielding all ranks and Spheres. Torres had taken a force shield generator from one of the slain guards at the entrance and wore it around her wrist, but it was failing from the repeated assaults. It flickered, once, and in that instant a bolt struck her in the thigh. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Torres shifted her weight onto her good leg and continued fighting, but she was badly impaired in terms of speed and skill. It wasn't good.

Then suddenly a thunderous roar resounded through the vestibule. _Tieran__!_ While she had been fighting with troops that had approached from the north, Tieran had been aiding those leading from the south. The young tigress was clearly angry, judging from the heat in her roar. Powerful blasts of energy threw the guards across the room like a windstorm. Torres couldn't see the angry creature for all the mayhem, but she could feel her presence, and more—

At that moment Tieran leaped up high, and Torres' heart skipped a beat. For riding proud upon the massive sleek body of the tigress was a magnificent, glorious sight; shining armor and raw power, brandishing the pennant of the house Ashkar in one hand and a force pike in another. She couldn't believe her eyes. "Captain!"

Janeway turned and glanced at her once, directly, briefly, before continuing with the battle. But in that moment Torres saw the fierce determination in Janeway's eyes, and a sudden epiphany seemed to dawn upon her. Myriam had been right. There would be a victory today. That knowledge filled her with a runaway euphoric rejoicing. This was it, she thought, this was the victory that would liberate them all. She didn't know why she cared so much about it, but she did. It meant the world to her. _Maybe I've been searching for a cause to fight for all my life,_ she thought.

A blazing blue bolt struck the pennant Janeway held and set it aflame. The doors to the throne room had blasted open, and the Empress stood framed within them, angry and terrible. It seemed as if a lightning storm was raging about her, destroying everything in its path. She laughed as Janeway threw the burning banner aside. "Watch your rebellion burn, heathen!" With a single wave of her hand she created a massive shockwave that spread outwards in a circle, knocking everyone onto their backs and sending Torres crashing backwards into a pillar. Her breastplate resonated painfully; her chest hurt and huge black stars were filling her vision.  She shook her head angrily and cleared her vision with a rapid series of blinks.

The shockwave passed over Janeway. She remained standing, jaw set, eyes aflame. "The rebellion burns because it is consuming your empire," she snarled. And then she raised her pike and charged forward.

_Voyager_ was losing altitude. Kes was fighting to regain control of the ship; but they seemed to have been cut off from the Spheres entirely. Chakotay called for Janeway, but she was out of reach, perhaps dead. He didn't know. For the first time since the battle started, Dione seemed panicky. "What's our status!" He demanded of his crew.

"There is an Ice shield enfolding our ship," reported Kim, reading off the scans. "We have been isolated from all the other spheres."

"The Empress," breathed Chakotay.

"Precisely," said Tuvok. "We cannot call for help. We are isolated."

"We cannot reach the energies outside the shield," said Dione.

"Kes, can our pull us out of this dive?" said Chakotay.

"I'm trying," said Kes, "But the controls aren't responding."

"Engineering," he barked, "is there a problem with our engines?"

A harassed-sounding Carey responded. "We've lost our impulse engines, and the warp core has been destabilized. I'm not sure how far we can go on thrusters!"

_Thrusters…_ That got Chakotay thinking. "If we could boost enough power to the thrusters, would it give enough for us to execute a proper landing?"

"Yes, but even if we diverted all power on this ship, it wouldn't be enough!"

Chakotay turned to Dione. The Mage looked uncertain; without her ability to Cast, she was virtually useless on the ship. He would change that. "You said you couldn't reach the energies outside. What about the energies within the shield? Could we use that?"

"You mean our internal energies." Dione's eyes lit with a new understanding. "There are a hundred and fifty people on this ship—each containing a vast amount of energy within themselves—I do think we can give of ourselves to sustain the ship!"

"Could you help us do it? Most of the crew on board are male, and with your own men—"

"I can do it."

Dione shut her eyes. "Kes, help me."

Chakotay sat back down in his chair. He could feel the energies slowly seeping from him, feel himself grow weaker, but _Voyager_ was not shaking violently anymore. Her descent slowed and smoothened out, and the ship sailed forward, towards Licknok Moor, towards a safe haven.

With a wild cry, Janeway leapt forward at the Empress. She ducked easily to the side, sending a bolt of blue energy towards Janeway as she sprang away. Janeway deflected the bolt with her hand just as she landed on her feet; her hand was unburnt. For a moment the two stood staring at each other with hatred in their eyes. In an unspoken word, both threw their pikes aside.

"So, we meet again at last," said Nayrn, baring her sharp teeth. "It has come down to this, then. Empress versus Emissary."

Myriam's words drifted across her mind. **You must know that you are not the Emissary…**

Janeway shut the thoughts out. "You won't get away with what you've done to my ship," she growled.

"And you won't get away with what you've done to my empire," hissed Nayrn.

They stood, facing off for a second more. Then simultaneously they charged at each other. Bolts of energy bounced off the walls of the throne room as the two grappled with each other. The battle was evenly divided. Shouts of triumph resonated through the Palace interior—from the Panizhe troops overrunning the place—but the war was far from over. Their fight took itself from the cavernous vestibule into the chamber of the throne room itself; now their bolts ricocheted to the roof of the throne room, several stories up. The sounds of fighting rang hollow.

One of Nayrn's bolts caught Janeway in the shoulder, off-guard; she winced as it burned her. She shifted her position to block her wounded arm from attacks from the Empress, but the woman was picking up momentum, and it became harder and harder for Janeway to keep up with her. Despite Janeway's great skill, she had scant experience with fights of this sort, and she hadn't fully recovered from her ordeals. The Empress was gaining ground.

Something struck her hard in the abdomen; the Empress had ripped the head off a marble statuette and hurled it at her. Janeway lost her balance and stumbled backwards. Nayrn summoned a pike to her hand and charged at Janeway lying prone on the floor. Quickly Janeway ripped a large chunk of stone from a pillar and sent it hurtling towards Nayrn.

The chunk struck the Empress hard in the back, and she was thrown in the air, headed in a deadly arc towards Janeway. The point of the pike soared, dreamlike, towards Janeway. **You are not the Emissary…**

A dark figure leapt towards them and slammed into Nayrn, sending her crashing into the floor, pike clattering from her hands. Torres let out an angry scream. "_Die!!_"

Without even thinking Janeway brought the roof down upon the Empress. Torres leapt back as plaster and concrete rained down from the ceiling, crushing the woman beneath it. Even the triumphant cries outside ceased as the thunder of the falling roof sent tremors through the floor.

When the dust settled all was still. Janeway climbed to her feet and moved towards the mound of rubble. Nayrn was partially buried within it, all but her head and upper torso trapped underneath a tonne of stone. Her eyes were glassy and a trickle of blood ran from between her lips. She gazed up at Janeway as she approached, and a bitter smile touched her lips. "So. You have come to gloat."

Janeway said nothing. Torres came to her side.

Nayrn shut her eyes. "The Maldorian rule has been defeated." There was no trace of emotion in her voice, only a resigned acceptance. All her plans, her hopes and dreams had been crushed in one instant, leaving only ashes in her mouth. She could see that clearly, and it weighed her down more than the mass of rubble covering her. There would be no more fighting, no more struggle. The battle had been fought, and lost.

Yes, she had lost, and Janeway had won.

As Janeway stared at the Empress, the last words of Myriam came back to her again, and she suddenly understood what she had said before she had gone away.

**You have a destiny to fulfil. You are not the Emissary….**

It all came clear. It all came painfully clear.

"Take it," wheezed Nayrn. "You have earned it." She took in one last, tortured breath that ended in a liquid gurgle, and was still. 

"Take what?" asked Torres.

"The Ring of the Eminence," said Janeway slowly. She watched as the intricate piece of jewelry on Naryn's exposed hand shrunk upon itself until all that remained was a small gold band on her index finger. Then she reached over and took the Ring from her finger.

The golden band began to glow and change, seeming to melt and run itself along her hand, tracing a delicate pattern of rivulets around her fingers and wrists. Light poured from within it, filling the cavernous room.

_The Ring chooses…_

**Not Emissary….**

Janeway flexed her hand, and the golden patterns shimmered, stretched to fit like a new layer of skin.

… **Empress.******


	40. new phoenix rising

**chapter forty: new phoenix rising**

_Voyager_  had settled down upon the great plains just south to Licknok Moor; the pinnacles of the Eminent Palace could be clearly seen through the viewscreen. Chakotay felt completely drained, weak: the rest of the crew probably did as well. But they were in one piece. That was good. "Status?" he asked.

"The Panizhe troops have completely overrun the city," reported Tuvok. "The Maldorian fleet is in retreat." The Vulcan fixed him with his steady gaze. "It would appear that we have won."

_Victory…_ Somehow the word failed to bring an explosion of joy within him. The worry in his heart refused to let go. Was Kathryn alive? Or had she perished, along with countless others, her body never to be found? He turned to look at Dione. She was pale and shaking from the effort of setting _Voyager_ down. "Have we still no contact with the outside world?"

Dione shook her head. "The Empress' grip is strong."

"It's failing," said Kes softly. "Give me a moment, I might be able to break through—"

Suddenly, a blinding ray of light shot out from the peak of the Eminent Palace. The brilliant white shaft extended skywards and seemed to spread until the whole world was engulfed in its intensity. _Voyager_'s bridge shone with a breathtaking radiance that bled the shadows from everything and immersed them in a uniform whiteness. And the song—the song of the light! Chakotay could hear music soaring upon that light, lifted by wings of gold. The music touched his heart, permeated his soul, and carried him up along with it. In that timeless moment he thought he saw Janeway's face, superimposed upon the light, blending and becoming one with it.

The light traveled beyond the spaces between the planets, washing over the fleets and the sun, out into the cold depths of space and beyond. In that one instant the whole of the Eminence saw the light, and those who knew what it meant rejoiced, for they knew that change had finally triumphed and a new era had come.

Then almost as abruptly as it had come the light faded away, leaving them sitting stunned where they were. Very softly, Chakotay asked, "What was that?"

"The passing of an age," replied Dione, her voice a near-whisper. "All my life I have been waiting for this moment, and now it has finally come—" She stopped, unable to continue. The words had dried up in her throat; nothing could express the richness of the emotions she felt.

Kes turned to face the rest of them. "House Maldor has fallen," she said.

"That light…" said Kim slowly, his voice suffused with awe, "Was that the Light of Passing that I've been told about?"

"Yes," said Kes. Her brow creased slightly. "When the Ring of the Eminence passes from one House to another, it sends out the Light… as a beacon, so that the whole of the Eminence is aware of what has happened." She quieted. "When the Ring passes from one Empress to another…"

"That means that Nayrn Maldor is dead," said Chakotay.

Kes nodded, still lost in some thought.

He didn't hesitate. **Myriam****!**

**I am here. **The war leader's voice sounded drained, tired.

**We have won.**

**I know.**

**What… what of the Emissary?** He couldn't bring himself to say her name.

He could almost hear her hollow laugh. **The Emissary is no more, Chakotay. There never was an Emissary.**

_The Emissary is no more._ The words refused to make an impact on him. Why didn't they? They should, they should! Kathryn was gone, everything they had planned for and hoped for was gone. He sat motionless in his chair, turning those words over and over in his mind.

**What will be do now?** He asked her.

There was a long pause before her reply. **I do not know.**

The new Empress' lack of direction was somewhat disquieting. **I will go to Licknok Moor,** he said.

Myriam cut her communications with Chakotay and stared into space. She felt suddenly empty inside. Seven came up to her. "The Maldorian troops have offered unconditional surrender," she intoned.

Myriam nodded wordlessly. What could she say in words that could express what she felt inside, truly? Her youngest child was gone. She had failed her. And what would become of House Ashkar? Another had been Chosen to rule. No, not just Chosen—she had been prophesized. The world as she knew it seemed to have just been turned on its head. "I must got to Licknok Moor," she said.

"I will come with you," offered Seven.

Myriam nodded. "Loess, you will oversee the daer while I am gone." The Seer nodded.

Distantly, they could hear the laughing of children outside; sounds of celebration. Myriam had far more important things to do.

The light had passed through them and was gone. Janeway stared at her hand in wonder. "What in the world… was that?" she asked in a whisper.

"I don't know," said Torres, her eyes stunned. She took a deep breath. "Whatever it was, it was… amazing."

Janae came up to them, bruised and bloody, but with a beatific expression on her face. She paused before Janeway, then fell to her knees amid the rubble. She said no words, but her message was obvious.

Janeway flexed her hand again, and watched as the golden tracery shifted and sparkled. It was mesmerizing. The Ring felt so light on her hand, yet it carried with it the immense weight of an Empire. Janeway thought of the thousands of worlds, the billions of individuals held in sway of its powers. The mere thought sent something akin to a windstorm whirling through her head. The weight of countless lives seemed to be crushing down upon her chest. She'd thought that the responsibility of captaining a ship was a heavy one. But now, she realized she hadn't grasped the nature of responsibility at all. She was wearing absolute power on her wrist, and it was simultaneously amazing and terrifying.

Torres put her hand on hers. "Captain?" she asked softly.

"Don't call me that," said Janeway. The thought of _Voyager_'s destruction suddenly sent a new kind of pang through her. "I'm not even sure if I deserve that title anymore."

"You always will," said Torres firmly, "You always will." She took Janeway's hand in a firm grip. "Let's see how the others are doing." She helped Janae to her feet, and together the three of them left the throne room.

In the interior of the Palace, the children were singing. Slaves to the Maldorian Empire, these children had been downtrodden beasts of burden, oppressed and caged. Many of them were orphans of the rebellion, living their lives in misery. Now they sang gladly in the corridors, singing the forbidden folk songs of hope and joy that they had secretly sung at night in a rebellion of their own. Now they could do it openly. Many were running in excitement, or jumping as high as they could, as if they were jumping for the stars.

The wolfchild laughed too. Borne aloft by the strong wings of Falkner and Falda, she swooped through the main corridor. The wings of the seraphim twins had finally grown enough for them to fly, and they had secretly practiced their skills in private. Now they soared through the Palace, laughing at their new-found freedom. Carried between them, the wolfchild thought she'd never felt so happy in her life. It was almost like a dream. _Oh, please don't let it be a dream, I don't want this sweetness to end!_

She spied a familiar face in the throng of children below. "Calista!" The young Ashkari spy—well, no longer, she thought suddenly—looked up and waved at them. "Bring us down!" she told the seraphim twins. 

With a whoop of delight Falkner steered them towards the ground. Some of the children scattered at their approach, but others welcomed them with open arms. The wolfchild jumped from between the twins and hit the ground running. "We've won, we've won!" she cried as she reached out and engulfed Calista in a huge bearhug.

Calista was laughing and crying at the same time. "I can't believe it, I can't believe it! It's over!"

"No more being laughed at and poked fun at—"

"No more sneaking around, no more looking over our shoulders every time we want to talk—"

"We're free!"

Falkner and Falda had joined them. "Yes, we are," said Falkner in his deep melodic voice. 

A huge smile creased the wolfchild's face. "It doesn't feel real."

"It is," said Falda. She took the wolfchild by the shoulders. "Believe it, Adolphian, believe it."

"Adolphian?" The wolfchild looked puzzled.

"A name I saw in my dream last night," said Falda with a smile on her face. "It sounded like yours."

The wolfchild laughed. "I like it."

Calista seized Falkner's and Adolphian's hands. "Let us go meet my mother!" And so saying they ran towards the throne room.

The streets of Licknok Moor were a mess. The fighting had destroyed a great deal of infrastructure; collapsed buildings filled streets littered with dead bodies and detritus. Broken waterlines spouted great rivulets high into the air; where the arcs touched ground, they washed the blood and dirt from the streets. As people came out from hiding and assessed the wreckages of their lives, they realized the great change that had come upon them. Some lamented, but there were many who rejoiced. 

Across the world, across the universe, the same scenes were replayed over and over. In city squares, in living rooms, on starships: people jumped and wept for joy, or stood speechless, or held hands and hugged in an ecstasy of wonder. And the word was in the air: a new age had begun. 


	41. all that you can't leave behind, you tak...

**chapter**** forty one: all that you can't leave behind, you take on the journey**

Janeway stood in the main infirmary of the Eminent Palace. All around her were the wounded and the dying; the Palace healers were trying their best to save them, but there were so many injuries that even triage became impossible. Janeway wanted to help them, heal them with her own energies, but the healers steadfastly refused to let her drain herself. It made her furious. These were her subjects, but she couldn't save them. As a human being, she felt helpless, as Empress, she felt like she was a failure. _Five minutes into my reign and I already have a disaster on my hands._ She thought of the legacy of _Voyager_'s maiden voyage and wondered if history was repeating itself.

Janae and Torres bustled around the room giving orders and directions, and nobody questioned them. Watching the two, Janeway wished that she had their energy, their willpower. They should be Empress, not she! She felt so drained, so weighed down. Why?

Myriam entered the room, and she, like Janeway, seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. The only difference was that, in Janeway's case, it was a reality. Their eyes met, and Janeway realized that Myriam, too had lost someone dear to her. Being sorry wasn't adequate. She reached out and comforted her with a tendril. **I'm here.**

The ghost of a smile touched Myriam's lips for a brief moment.** So am I.** She looked out of the window, and added, **Your Mate should be here soon.**

**My mate…? **Janeway almost stopped breathing. **Chakotay is alive?**

"Yes," said Myriam. "Did you not know? The Empress cut them off from the rest of us, but they did not fail."

The world suddenly seemed brighter. "I didn't know."

"You do now," said Myriam, and for the first time in a long time a genuine glint of happiness came into her eyes. "It is over, Kathryn. It is as the Auguries said. House Ashkar and House Maldor are no more. It is time for a new reign, a new beginning. A new Age."

Janeway gazed out of the window, the sun-comprehending glass, and the blue infinity beyond. "There is so much to do."

"Indeed." Myriam reached out to touch her hand. "But we can do them together."

And Janeway thought, _Yes__. There will always be someone here for me…_

The interior of the Palace was a mess. The stench of blood was in the air, and the hovering dust stung his eyes. Chakotay plowed through the fallen bodies of Panizhe troops. He had run through the battlefields, searching for her body, but nothing had turned up. Now he searched the corridors of the Palace, seeking Myriam. Perhaps she would know where Kathryn was.

Depression was already beginning to set in. Maybe he had been wrong into pressing her into this battle, pressing her through the Joining. How was he to continue alone? The thought of the unbearable loneliness in this strange world seemed to be crushing him. He wanted it to. He wanted to be smashed to smithereens, torn to pieces, so that his soul could seek the happy hunting grounds, where she was. He gazed fiercely at the pillars of the corridor he was running down. _Fall and crush me!_ He commanded them. But they remained standing, resolute.

Then he saw Myriam, standing at the end of the corridor, directing the beginnings of the clean-up. She sensed him coming, and smiled slightly as he came running up. He sensed that she was touched by some tragedy, but there was some joy in her countenance as well. Good for her. She had won the war, after all. Now she was Empress.

She laughed, reading his thoughts. "I'm not the Empress, Chakotay."

Chakotay stared at her, not understanding. "No?"

Myriam took his hand, turning away from Tabitha, who was aiding in the cleanup. "I know you feel grief and confusion now. That is the last legacy of Nayrn Maldor. She sought to sow discord in your lives, but she is gone now and her hold on us is gone."  She saw the beginning of comprehension in his eyes. "Kathryn is not dead, Chakotay. She lives, and she wears the Ring of the Eminence."

_Alive…_ Then the rest of her words sank in. "She is the Empress?"

Myriam nodded.

"Where is she now?"

"In the infirmary," she replied, and pointed down the corridor to their right. "That way."

He took off running.

The infirmary was a hub of chaos: medics, Healers and orderlies bustled around, tending to the wounded and saying prayers for the dying. But at the center of that activity was a sudden calm: she was standing, motionless, her tunic ripped and bloodstained. Yet it struck him how regal she looked, dignity perfectly framed as she stood staring at the scenery outside. Light poured in from the brightened skies, and she looked almost surreal, a sketch from a glorious alfresco of days past.

"Kathryn." The words almost didn't make it out of his throat.

She made no movement, and he surmised that she hadn't heard her. He quickly moved across the room, brushing Healers aside, and engulfed her from behind in a hug.

She was startled at first by his hug, but then she settled upon his body with a languid sigh. When she spoke her voice had a distant, airy quality to it. "I though I'd nearly lost you."

"So did I." He pressed his face into her hair. He didn't care that she reeked sharply of blood and sweat; she was his, she was all his. That bright future that they'd envisioned was still there. Nothing had changed.

No, wait—something _had_ changed. She pulled away from his embrace and turned to face him. And then he could see it: that weariness, that worry in her eyes was back again. She had been put in command, this time not of a ship of a few hundred, but of a galaxy of billions. Something turned cold in Chakotay. He was wrong—he _had_ lost her. Lost her to the duties of command once again. History was repeating itself.

He backed away from her slowly. "I understand," he said. "Your duties call, and you can't honor our agreement." He struggled to keep his voice calm. She was not going to blame herself for hurting him. Never. _It could be worse,_ he told himself. _At least she's alive. And she knows my true feelings for her. At least we were together, even for such a short period of time._

Her mind reached out for his, frantic. **Don't go.**

He stopped in his tracks. **Kathryn?**

Her eyes were unfathomable, deep, mysterious. Yet her voice in his head was plaintive, vulnerable. **Stay with me.**** Don't shut me out again. **

**I've never shut you out!** He protested. 

**I can't do this alone, Chakotay, I need your support.**

He stared at her, trying to search for the hint of untruth his mind was telling him just _had_ to be there. **As a friend, or as more?******

Her gaze was firm and steady. "We are more than friends, Chakotay. You know that. We are like one." **I need you to be here with me,** she said. **Things have changed. I will never walk away from you again, Chakotay. Will you walk away from me?**

"Never." He seized her in another fierce hug, a sudden relief washing through him. Things were not the same anymore; they were new, they were filled with promise, they were filled with hope. "Are you certain about this?"

"I made a mistake once on _Voyager_, when I decided that you and I could never be more than colleagues. I won't make that mistake again. This time, we're doing things right." She broke from his embrace to gaze at him. "Together."

He smiled. "Together." He took her hand, and the both of them left the infirmary, walking into a world where spring had newly begun.


	42. epilogue: walking on

**epilogue****: walking on **

**_______****Three Months Later_______**

Night had freshly fallen over the rebuilt city of Licknok Moor. The royal attachés below the balcony were engaged in a rowdy round of singing and celebration, whilst in the city square, crowds reveled with fireworks commemorating the Inauguration of the new Empress. Yet it was quiet on the balcony. Janeway stood, breathing the clean night air, and gazing at the shimmering star in the sky that was _Voyager_ . Behind her, arms around her waist, Chakotay followed her gaze and pointed the ship out. "Paris suggested that we called it Space Force One. He seemed to think it was funny. Any idea what he meant?"

Janeway laughed. "Pretty much. It's one of his twentieth-century jokes that most of us won't get. Don't worry too much about it." She looked downwards at the crowd below them. "There he is now." Paris noticed the eyes of the Eminent on him, looked up and waved at them, inviting them down with a characteristic Paris smile. Then Torres came over and said something to him, grabbed him by the arm and both disappeared into the crowd. "Well, there he goes."

Chakotay smiled. "He's got a handful, now that B'Elanna is pregnant."

"She's already starting the bloodline for the Head Warrior position," remarked Janeway. "Good thing, too."

"You're forgetting Janae." Chakotay pointed the young Warrior-Healer in the crowd, with her mate by her side. "I heard Harry's been keeping her up all night."

"This only goes to prove that you shouldn't listen to everything you hear," laughed Janeway. She quieted as a thought struck her. "I wonder what kind of rumors they're spreading about _us?_"

Chakotay leaned over to breathe the sweet smell of her long, fine hair. "The last I heard, the Empress was three months pregnant …"

Janeway elbowed him slightly. "That's not a rumor." His hand drifted to her abdomen and she held it there as they both laughed awhile. "Looks like we've begun seeding a bloodline of our own."

Chakotay turned pensive. "Haven't we all?" he said. His gaze returned to the sky. "Do you ever look up sometimes at night and wonder what's happening on Earth?"

"Many times," said Janeway softly, "but it no longer pains me to think about it. Our first families have moved on, so have we." She gazed back at the crowd again. Tieran and Aldophian were playing tag under the Doctor's watchful eye, whilst Calista and Josh were in heated debate about something. Neelix was serving one of his specialties with Kes' help. In the corner, Myriam was speaking to Seven, who was beginning to become inseparable from Tuvok—one hardly ever saw one without the other these days. It wasn't exactly a match made in heaven, but they worked well together and Seven respected Tuvok's need for privacy regarding the matter of his wife. All in all, everything seemed well. "You're right, Chakotay. We have begun families of our own here."

Chakotay sighed. "Taking over the Eminence isn't going to be easy, though."

"No, it never is. Thousands of years of Maldorian rule will not be gotten rid of so easily. They will fight back." As she said so her gaze rested upon Jackelyn—Jackelyn, the bitter young woman who had been unwillingly drafted into Janeway's service. She chafed in her new role as court advisor; her loyalties to Maldor were strong, yet Janeway hoped that someday she would finally see the light and serve with all her heart.  Myriam was her mentor; Myriam was mentor to so many of the children, including the incredibly talented Adolphian. Myriam had her doubts about Jackelyn, feeling that she had been too deeply ingrained in the Maldorian way. But Janeway had hope. Hope never died. She pointed upwards agin. "See those stars, Chakotay?"

"Yes, I see them."

"Those stars shine for us, Chakotay. As long as we keep believing in ourselves, nothing is impossible." She grasped his hand in hers, reveling in his touch. "If we remain strong, nothing can stop us."

He said nothing, just holding her close. After a pause, he said, "Let's join them below."

She nodded in acquiescence. He took her hand and guided her as they made their way back amongst their people. And above them, the stars continued burning brightly, beacons in the sky guiding their way. _Voyager_ soared, the brightest of them all, a triumphant orbit embodying the spirit that encompassed House Janeway. Time turned as it always did, and the stars knew that all was well.

The End


End file.
